


Echo Chamber

by Foxberry



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Attack, Awkward Flirting, Blood and Injury, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Shiro (Voltron), Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Impalement, Isolation, Love Bites, M/M, Mirrors, Nightmares, Paranoid Pidge, Polyamory, Psychological Horror, Shooting Guns, Sniper Lance (Voltron), Survival Horror, Suspense, Suspicions, Teamwork, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:26:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxberry/pseuds/Foxberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro wakes up alone after being knocked out cold. There's been an explosion at the far end of the ship. Or at least he thinks it was an explosion. Aching and in pain, he struggles his way through the ship to find the rest of the crew and whether or not they're still okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.

The cold touch of metal against Shiro’s cheek wakes him in the darkness. Lying on the ground, he struggles to remember where he is or how he got here. All he can recall is an explosion, or at least that's what he thinks it was, what it felt like. It’s so silent now that he can't be sure he’s not in a dream, and for a second, he wishes it is.

His head rests against the wall, his whole body slumped across the floor awkwardly. It feels heavy with an ache that pulses through his forehead, regardless how many times he tries to blink it away. Testing his vision and moving his head, he squints at the ceiling above him and it comes into view with a blur. 

Its pale green lights flicker dimly, struggling to glow through their broken glass, painting the walls with a cold, daunting sheen. Despite the faint illumination, the sudden light in his eyes blinds him and he groans in protest, turning his head sharply away. He hits the wall with a low thump and sinks down onto the floor completely.

All he can hear is his own slow shaky breathing, echoing off the wall of what he thinks is one of the ship’s corridors. In the dim light, he can’t see more than a few feet and the shadows that lurk down the end he faces provides no answers. Neither does the silence.

Slight tilts of his head hurt, and the longer he lays on the ground, the more of his body reveals itself to be in pain. It screams at him when he rolls himself onto all fours, left arm tensing, legs tingling, and neck muscles burning. His right arm limply scrapes against the floor unable to respond to his feeble demand, while his left struggles to keep him from sliding back down to the kiss the ground with his nose.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, Shiro cringes and winces, biting his lips as hard as he can to ignore the pain. Clenching his jaw and shutting his eyes tight, he succeeds, though his muscles do not thank him for it. Everything rails against him but Shiro persists because he always persists.

In the cold of the corridor with no sounds and no signs of life other than his own, it feels like an empty accomplishment. His eyes open with a brief sigh, hopeful that he’ll wake up, but the room’s black walls only seem to grey as his eyes adjust.

The purr of the ship’s engine no longer provides its ambient comfort. Instead the great metal beast lies dead, floating through space like debris, or at least that’s how it feels from where he kneels. There’s no shaking of metal or turning of gears or humming of electricity. The lights above seem to whisper incoherent warning but are too busy dying themselves to make any noise clear.

“Great” is the first word that leaves his mouth. It echoes off the walls, a chilling reminder that he’s alone in the back half of the ship, or at least he thinks he is. His crew are still somewhere on the ship too, possibly alone, but whether they are still okay is another question Shiro dares not ask himself long. He has no idea how long he has been out, no idea where he is or where they are, and no idea whether he can move anywhere in this state.

His face stings, a prickling working its way over his nose, and it feels tight with every expression he tries to make. The skin struggles to move at his will, pulled taut by an unseen force, hurting like every other part of his body. Hesitant, he brings his fingers to his face and finds a damp, crusty coating over his skin. It feels warm to the touch, almost thick as it coats his fingertips. With the heavy weight of dread in his stomach he brings his finger befores his eyes and finds what he suspects, blood.

He can’t see the damage but he can feel it sting as if something was still clawing at his face. There’s nothing he can do here to help it now, but the wound has already started to heal and that is the best he can hope for. He can only wonder how long he must have been out for it to start scabbing already.

Wiping the blood off on his pants, he finds his standard uniform is torn, bare skin peeking through the carbon-fibre fabric. Blood coats a slash in his thigh, smeared across the thin and shallow cut, barely more than a few inches across. He thanks the universe it’s not any deeper and frowns at the thought of finding more.

A deep breath filling his lungs, he pushes all of his strength into his thighs to get to his feet. He wobbles at first, his right arm hanging heavily from his shoulder like a dead weight, but rights himself with a left palm pressed against the wall. The rivets at his fingertips feel comforting, somewhat real and grounding in the situation he finds himself in. His eyes can just make out their dotting across the walls, holding the ship together. At least this part of the ship is still okay.

On his hip, his communicator rattles, spitting out mixtures of sounds and static. He hastily grabs it from his right hip with his left hand, falling against the wall and sending a shockwave of pain through his shoulder. Leaning there, he squeezes the button and calls out, “Hello? Does anyone receive me? Over.”

The crackling continues, brief pauses punctuating the long stream of garbled noise. It dies a few seconds later and once again all Shiro can hear is himself. “Dammit.” He sighs and waits, frowning and cringing at the prickling tugging at his cheeks. If anyone heard him, they would surely answer. He might just have to wait, but with no idea of where he is, he could hardly stay here either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> A1. tries to call out one more time on the communicator  
> A2. tucks the communicator away and shuffles forward
> 
>  [Make your vote by July 14th 11:59pm EDT](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)
> 
> To vote, simply leave a comment below! Please don't forget to tell me what you think or how you think Shiro will get through the next trial.
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [my main twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or [my Voltron fandom twitter](http://twitter.com/particlebarrier). 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.

Shiro tries to call out one more time on the communicator, fingers gripping tight as he puts it up to his lips again. The LED’s screen is a faint orange, barely showing the digital numbers on the screen that are supposed to tell him something of value. He can’t remember what exactly when he presses the button down. "This is Black Lion. Over." It’s worth trying one more time if only to not regret it later if the battery dies.

The static begins again, echoing down the corridor and seeming to bounce off the walls. Like a ghost spurring into being, it seems to carry an ominous weight with it, setting the chill of the room into Shiro's bones. He would rather the silence than this hideous failure of a sound. It splutters through the rattling speakers of the communicator, vibrating through his hand to remind him that he can still feel something other than pain.

"Gr-green" crackles through the speaker with a distorted whisper of feedback. The communicator seems to buzz and shake in his hand. His breathing stops suddenly, too afraid that he might not be able to hear the rest of the voice coming through. His muscles tense, frozen in place, and he stares at the blinking orange that taunts him. Nothing further comes through the communicator. It’s just more static and garbled, haunted words.

Shiro finally releases the air held in his lungs. It aches to exhale. Sharp sudden pains seem to prick and dig into his skin as if his ribs themselves had become sharpened weapons inside him. Not sure whether muscle strain or actual damage, he lifts his shoulders and tries to stretch. The pain fades away to a dull ache to his relief. He isn't completely broken after all.

The communicator grows silent and the strange ringing of sound that Shiro can't quite hear fills the room. Unable to recognise the voice he heard or be entirely sure he had heard anything at all, he tries one more time for clarification. "Repeat. Over." It's short and to the point, echoing off the walls as soon as the words leave his lips. The darkness before him seems to never end.

Grunting and huffing through the aching, he stumbles forward a step and finds his balance. His right arm hangs limp and useless from his shoulder, but what use is it now if he can't even work out where he is. His left hand grips the communicator tighter when it shakes into life again. "--ack Lion, Black Lion. This is Green Lion. Over." The transmission ends with another crackle.

The sound of other life on the ship gives Shiro a glimpse of hope. Though his face is tight and struggles to move with the thick crusting of blood across his nose, a relieved smile manages to form on his lips. While he can't be one hundred percent sure with the distortion of their voice, he's reasonably certain that Pidge is answering his call. "Good to hear you, Green Lion. How do you copy? Over." Taking another deep breath, he can feel the warmth of fresh blood oozing from his wound. His smile seems to have opened the wound again. There's nothing he can do now with his only functional hand busy.

He loosens his grip and for a moment lets his eyes close to truly listen. The room sways in his head, tilting and rolling even in the darkness of his mind, not much different than the daunting grey shadow that surrounds him. The transmission back that follows seems to hover in his thoughts and he can only hope he's not actually knocked out on the ground and dreaming.

"Copy 2 out of 5. I say again. Copy 2 out of 5. Over." Pidge's voice comes through with its familiar resonance, squeaking and rasping as younger voices tend to do. In the distortion of the call, Shiro can't tell if they're okay or hurt or scared. He hopes the slight warble is simply the old speakers.

He lets the formality and training fall aside and squeezes the communicator in his hand as tightly as he closes his eyes. "How are you doing, Pidge?" he asks in a sprint of words, breaking every radio protocol they'd been taught. His eyes snap open as his face contorts together, a fresh trail of blood tickling down his cheek. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

The tone of concern in their voice comes through louder and clearer than anything else with the static and crackling suddenly gone. "Sh-shiro!" Then all sound cuts out. The LED of the communicator dies with a rapid series of flashes of orange in the dim green corridor light. For a second he swears he can hear a faint humming from his hand but it's nothing more than his mind hoping to hear their voice again.

"Pidge?" Shiro pulls communicator away from his face to stare harder. No amount of focus on the chunk of rubber in his hand makes the screen any brighter. "Pidge? Do you copy? Over." His words fall heavy and clatter to the ground with a deafening silence, echo ringing in his ears.

He steps forward, insistent that he needs to find them, find them all. His feet find themselves, step after step, while his whole body leans to use his metal arm as a counter weight. His hand never leaves the communicator. "Green Lion, Green Lion. This is Black Lion. Say again. Over," he repeats once, twice, and once again. The invitation fails and the silence returns.

He can't sit here and wait for another call this time. He knows to some degree that Pidge is alive and he can hold onto that for now. With every step forward, inching further into the darkness with the crackling of broken glass underfoot, he finds more momentum and more determination to keep going.

His steps lead him into the pitch black of another corridor. It veers down to his left and off to his right. The smell of his own blood turns his stomach as the trails of blood reaches his lips. He wipes and smears the warmth across his face with rough, lazy movement of the back of his hand. Cursing his predicament and the new stinging sensation taking to his face, his head turns slowly, weighing his options and liking neither.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> B1. stumbles left and heads towards the cold draught  
> B2. turns right and moves towards the faint rumbling sound
> 
>  
> 
> [Make your vote by July 21st 11:59pm EDT](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)
> 
>  
> 
> If you have a Tumblr account, please send all votes to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via reply, tags, message, or via ask so I can keep them all together. If you don't have an account there, simply comment below.
> 
> \- - -
> 
> If you liked this and want to share it on Tumblr, you can find the Tumblr post [here](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/147448168894/echo-chamber).
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberry) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.

Shiro turns right and moves towards the faint rumbling sound. The floor vibrates beneath him, tremors making their way up his legs and messing with his heartbeat. The opposing sounds mix together in a syncopated rhythm and slow Shiro's step down to little more than a stumble.

He returns the communicator to his hip and tucks it back into its original position. It buzzes again in protest, but its noise can't hide the low growl that calls out to Shiro from the corner of the darkness. No matter how hard Shiro squints, he can't make out the shape of what lies in wait for him.

Gulping down the nerves clasping tightly around his throat, he can't help but be driven forward by his curiosity. Despite the dread following right behind him, his feet keep moving. The rumbling and the harsh growl that draws him closer sounds familiar. There's a hint of something that he knows or should know, and despite the shiver running up and down his spine he forces himself forward.

A glint of yellow shines from the shadows from two round patches, moving too quickly for Shiro to make out their source. Their iridescent glow catches on the rivets and long arching scratches on the wall and floor. Their light strokes over what Shiro can only call claws, sitting inches away and pressed against the wall, far too still in the dead sound of the corridor.

Shiro knows in this moment that some manner of beast is watching him, waiting there in the corner. What manner of beat it is eludes him completely. It growls again as he approaches, scratching its claws down the metal. The shadow around to conceals most of its movement, but even in the dark, as Shiro's eyes adjust, he can make out the hunch in its spine. It's large enough to take him down. There's no doubt of that.

Frozen in place by his thoughts, Shiro can't help but feel useless. His right arm seems to grow heavier, hanging in the air, unresponsive to any attempt to move it. The cut across his face hurts at every movement and throbs with a fresh wave of pain every time he lets his face change expression. The aches in his muscles and his bones seize up every part of him that's functional and reminds him that his body is at its limit. With no hope of defending himself in his current state, Shiro is more ready to surrender than fight.

The creature growls at him again. A threat in any form is still a threat and with only one functioning arm, there is little Shiro can do if the creature comes his way. He does the best he can do in this moment and remains completely still. If his end is to come by the claws of a beast in the darkness, he can at least prepare himself for it.

The sound grows faint, the growl fading into the silence that now engulfs them both. There's no where else to look as much as Shiro tries to avoid the creature's eyes. It's marked him, unable to look away, threatening with both stare and sound. As if constructed of shadow and doubt, it slinks its way across the floor with a tinkering of claws on metal. It's a soft and chilling sound, almost as cold as the corridor itself. All it would take would be one pounce and he'd be done for.

He curses himself for coming this way. His body moves to a guarded position. One foot moves back behind him while he raises his functional arm defensively. His breathing shakes and every exhales is accompanied by a soft heaving of his chest. No matter how hard he tries the sound of his growing fear reveals his location, until he holds his breath all together.

Yellow light streams towards him. Thick streaks of purple course through the air in blurs. The glint of steel catches the dimmest of the light before Shiro's face and he ducks down just in time to miss the heavy mass of purple and black beast that flies over him. Its tail whips past his face, fur catching on his scab and drawing more blood from the wound with its impact.

It hits the ground with a screech of metal and a shockwave through the floor. As nimble as the beast seems to be, it carries a heavy weight with it and Shiro knows he's exceptionally lucky to have been able to avoid it. Yet the sudden movement catches him off-guard and his thighs ache at him. His wound stings and a new stream of warm blood starts running down his leg. He wonders how much of his own blood he's covered in and whether he'll be able to stop the bleeding before he faints.

The thought disappears quickly when the beast turns around, tail flicking about it like a fast moving shadow. Its yellow eyes fixate on him and narrow with malicious intent. It rushes at him and with a grunt and a cringe, Shiro motions to protect himself.

His metal arm swings before him, suddenly responding and ripping at the tendons in his shoulder. The creature's claws catch against the metal, pushing Shiro's arm towards his face. The smell of sweat and fear and fur mingle in their clash, sounds of metal screeching and bestial growling repeating again in tandem. Shiro struggles against the creature's weight and adds his own grunting to the mixture when its claws sink into his arm.

Sparks fly as Shiro gives one more shove against it, nudging it off his arm with whatever strength he seems to have left within him. The beast falls to the side, surprised and angry, stomping over the ground and seeming to reconsider whether Shiro is worth fighting. Shiro's arm lights the creature with sparks of blue and purple, electricity arching over and through the deep gauges now in the metal. They face each other in silence as both size each other up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> C1. stands his ground, struggling to hold himself upright  
> C2. spies a vent in the distance and makes a run for it
> 
>  
> 
> [Make your vote by July 28th 11:59pm EDT](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>    
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/147884976689/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberry) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.
> 
> However, this week is a little different. Due to illness, I missed last week's update and have written a double update especially for this week to make up for it! Thank you so much for the kind messages and patience. Enjoy!

Shiro spies a vent in the distance and makes a run for it. His legs ache and his arm flashes with bright purple, arcs of electricity lighting the corridor in split seconds. The creature growls at his feet, still posing itself as a threat. Its tail whips through the air as if it's preparing to strike again, crouching in position and waiting for him. Even with the light, Shiro can only make out glimpses as it moves side to side. It appears uncomfortable as if it was never meant to move this way, and yet it still has managed to lunge at him with its claws.

The vent behind it is an open escape, just waiting for Shiro to make his way through and duck in. It seems so much further away when his legs stumbles, his ankle buckling under the weight of his pain. He keeps pushing forward regardless, determined to get out of harm's way. He can feel his face contorting to a grimace and tastes his own blood upon his lips. Sharp breaths force their way out with every step forward he makes, each one challenging the creature before him.

He raises his arm, too focused on his survival to be thankful for its function returning, and thrusts it forward in warning. His fingers come together, flattening his palm and readying his arm as a weapon. With nothing else on his person and his body starting to fail him, it is all he has left, even if he can't quite feel the tips of his metal fingers. It would have to do.

The creature stares and immediately retreats at Shiro's movement, darting back and slinking back against the corridor wall. It rears back onto its hind legs as if suddenly afraid and confused by Shiro's determination. Some kind of recognition seems to have set a chill through its bone. Maybe it was simply the blinding flashes of light from his arm. Perhaps the creature had merely meant to defend itself. Its breathing seems to rattle from its chest, small whines punctuating between them.

Once Shiro passes it, taking advantage of its surprise, he looks back and makes out its humanoid form. The beast he thought had attacked him has only only two legs instead of four. Its arms brace against the wall as its legs shakily hold it up. Its lower body is encased in fabric similar to his, but its chest and limbs are exposed and dark purple. Bright yellow eyes and large purple ears frame the long brown hair around its face. The features appear foreign but familiar. He stops in his tracks to consider the sight he sees.

Shiro clenches his fist immediately, backing up against the wall near the vent. Even metres apart with the thrumming pain through his body and darkness engulfing the room between flashes of purple, he knows one of the Galra when he seems them. It sees his gaze and huffs at him. "Sh-shiro." The noise comes through with a gruff growl and a pained expression. For a moment its features soften before its muscles tense and it takes on an aggressive stance again.

"Who are you?" Shiro barks back, ignoring the way his voice echoes off the wall. Its loud and deep, something he didn't think he possessed. When he sees the creature hunch its shoulders, Shiro wonders for a moment if he is the true beast of the two of them. He can't let himself to believe that, not with Pidge waiting for him somewhere on the ship.

They'd made their way upon this vessel possibly hours or maybe even days ago. Shiro can only remember so much as it flashes in his mind. The distress signal had called them from the depths of space and with no other vessels in sight, the team had taken it upon themselves to board. Shiro can barely remember what happened afterwards but he can recall the emptiness of the ship, how strange it had been to enter a ship calling for help and find no sign of life on board. Apparently their scans had failed to pick up the Galra he finds himself faced with.

It refuses to answer him, yellow eyes widening at the question before blinking hard. It leans forward, prompting Shiro to raise his arm defensively and dart his eyes to the vent by his leg. If he needs to run, he'll have a way to escape. He's in no condition to take another blow to his arm, not when he's like this.

Shiro takes a gamble and steps forward. Maybe if he can disable it, bring to the ground and hold it there, he might be able to question it. Maybe it knows where Pidge is, where Lance and Hunk and Keith are. Shiro dares to imagine it might even know what happened to them and ignores the cruel twist in his stomach at the thought it might have found them first. If those claws can make it through his arm, he doesn't want to imagine what they might do to human flesh.

Gathering whatever courage Shiro has behind the thumping pain in his head, he steps forward and demands, "Tell me where my team are!" He doesn't know where the fire in his chest is coming from but he's glad it's there. Perhaps it's the gash on his nose or the wound in his leg. Perhaps it's the pain of knowing Pidge is alive for a few seconds before the comms gave up. Perhaps it's simply the pain of knowing this creature might have been the one to hurt him and that it stands between him and finding his team.

It shakes its head, pressing itself up against the wall as Shiro approaches. Its voice is gruff, low, and stern when it answers him. "I don't know." There's a hint of regret that Shiro can hear in its voice, something he can't quite place. In the dark with its head tilted down, he can only make out the edges of its features, and Shiro wonders how much force he may need to make it talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is just the first half of this week's double update, the **voting options will be given in the next chapter**!
> 
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can contact me at [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) or [reblog the fic's Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/148580856144/echo-chamber).
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberry) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.
> 
> From this point on, I'll probably be adding some more ship-related content and adding shipping tags.

Shiro takes a deep breath before he speaks again, his exhale shaking on its way out. He can taste the tension hanging in the air and he can smell the mingling of sweat and blood and fear. "What do you mean you don't know?" His teeth grit together, biting down the urge to run, the urge to reach out and throttle the creature that had ripped into his arm. It doesn't look so fearsome now, even with the purple light from his arm illuminating the room like visual heartbeats.

The Galra's large ears twitch, perking up at the sound of Shiro's voice and immediately falling down submissively. It isn't the reaction Shiro has been expecting and his shoulders fall, releasing the tension that has worked its way into his back. The closer Shiro gets, the more human the Galra looks. Its yellow eyes narrow, aggression simmering in the snarl of its features. It, he, Shiro guesses, might have calmed down but he seems just as ready to attack.

"I don't know where they are," the Galra answers, his voice low and cautious, avoiding Shiro's eyes. His right hand settles to his hip, shoulders shrugging up defensively, so strangely human in his gesture. His bare chest raises in quick, shallow breaths. It's the most nervous Shiro has ever seen a Galra, the closest he has ever seen one up close without being attacked. Perhaps this is all part of the plan, perhaps it's only a ruse.

Grunting, Shiro pushes him to the wall with a shove of his left hand. Pain shoots up his arm when the Galra's back hits the metal wall and his fingers dig into skin. A loud bang echoes around them as the sound of flesh hitting metal rivets follows. "I find that hard to believe." Hand pushing against that purple fur, Shiro wonders how he has become so aggressive, how he can simply push this stranger, this creature, around like this. "How do you know my name?"

A shuddering exhale answers him, more like a breathy, angry purr than a huff. The Galra's eyes looks up at him, wide and yellow, searching his face for something with hope and worry. His eyes dart away, closing tight when another growl rips through its chest. The hand at his hips tenses and his claws rip into the fabric at his hip. It tears like tissue paper while his shoulders tense, his back arches, and his head throws back to yell up at the ceiling.

The guttural sound that escapes his lips sends a shiver down Shiro's spine. His left hand withdraws, snapping back to his side and curling his fingers into a fist. The Galra's eyes snap up at him, its fangs bared as it snarls up at him. "Get. Back." The creature's body throws itself forward, bending over and down to the ground. His hands reached out into the air, swiping and clawing at nothing. "I can't..." Harsh huffs choke his voice and he stands up to throw himself back against the wall.

Shiro's face stings when his eyebrows draw into a line. This is last thing he expected from his confrontation and to witness a Galra apparently struggling to stand, telling him to get away from it, is perhaps the strangest thing he might have ever seen. "I'm not leaving until I find out why you're here." Shiro persists even if his eyes are now taking glances at the vent, wishing he had escaped and run like he first intended. "What can't you do?"

Seeming to be pained by Shiro's words, the Galra shrinks away, a low warning growl coming from his chest. "Shiro, please..." An even louder growl rumbles through his chest, his head flying back and colliding with the wall. His face softens, eyes opening and mouth forming a frown. Pressing his claws to his chest, he slides down the wall and for the first time Shiro notices the large feet holding the Galra up, both sliding across the ground as it falls to the floor.

Shiro doesn't know how to feel when he sees the Galra crumpled at his feet. His energy spent, he looks considerably less fierce than before, his tail waving benignly by his side. His hands fall to either side of him, claws apparently now useless after that strange series of convulsions seems to have worked their way through his skin.

Shiro wonders if the feeling he senses now is some kind of pity. It's peculiar to witness a creature that just attacked him as so weak and helpless on the ground. An odd sense of guilt makes him gulp and exhale. Perhaps Shiro had looked so much more intimidating when he had rounded the corner and such a defensive attack seemed the only option. Shiro doesn't want to incite fear or pain and the thought that he stands above a creature telling him to get away sits heavily on his tense shoulders.

"Are you okay?" He finds himself speaking the words before he knows what he's asking. It's odd to think that their bout has come to this, has changed so quickly. He doesn't even know who this creature is. "What's... what's your name?" Maybe a different approach would allow him to find his team.

The Galra's lips part and his eyes stare up with a mixture of hurt and confusion and embarrassment. None of them are expressions Shiro thought he would see in those purple features. "It's me." His voice cracks and eyes downcast, watching his hands as they raise and turn, clawing at the air again as if he has never seen his hands before. "Do I really look that different?"

His face looks up at Shiro with a hope that looks familiar. The more that Shiro looks, the more he knows the shape of that face, the look in those eyes, the way that that hair falls. It takes him a full moment before the purple light flashes enough times for the recognition to hit him. "Oh god... Keith?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> D1. slowly gets down on the ground and reaches out  
> D2. immediately falls to his knees and hurries closer
> 
> [Make your vote by August 11th 11:59pm EDT](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>  
> 
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/148587639824/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberry) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.

Shiro slowly gets down on the ground and reaches out. It pains him to see the look on Keith's face when their eyes meet and shame seems to spread across those strangely familiar features. "Sorry. I..." He swallows the rest of his sentence under the sheer weight of concern that overwhelms him.

His left hand reaches out for Keith's face at first, hovering his fingers by his cheek and considering gestures that might help calm him. Rather than follow through with them, he drops his hand to Keith's shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the soft purple fur he finds. "Are you okay?" he asks, soft but firm, trying to prevent the pain of kneeling tinting his words.

Keith wrings his hands, his claws shining in the purple light. He looks so much more human with the self-conscious shrug of his shoulders and the nervous twitch of his lips. "I can't control it. It --" His body seizes up, eyes shutting tight with a low growl rumbling in his chest.

Shiro can do little more than watch on and feel useless. He waits for the series of tics and muscle spasms to pass by shuffling to Keith's side and putting his back against the wall. Sitting beside him, shoulder to shoulder, providing support in the silence of the cold corridor is the best he can hope for.

It's a minute before Keith relaxes back against the wall and breathes in deeply to settle the last of the twitching in his limbs. His voice is hoarse and scratchy when he continues speaking, "Sorry. I didn't mean to..." His yellow eyes turn to find Shiro's eyes and his ears lower, making him look that much more concerned. "I-I'm fine, but your arm... I..." His gaze wanders to the flashing light of the damage in Shiro's arm and his face immediately falls in shame.

Despite the tear through the metal, the fingers still have some function. That is something in Shiro’s mind, and there is little he could feel with his arm the way it is. It’s just one more thing to the list. Shiro has to reassure Keith that he did nothing wrong. "It's fine and now we have a light source." Shiro forces a smile and grits his teeth to stop the instinctive wince at the pain welling up in his cheeks. "It wasn't exactly working properly before anyway. I'm lucky I even got it--" Shiro pauses and thinks better of talking about how Keith could have taken him out if his arm hadn't spurred into action. He was exceptionally lucky, considering what Keith's claws did to his arm.

"Your face..." Keith avoids his eyes again and lets his hands fall to his lap. There's something so forlorn and defeated by the way he sits, leaning against the wall like he might never get up again. His breathing seems easier now, slowing and steadying the longer they sit side by side.

Shiro nods for his own benefit. He can't believe he's found company after what has felt like hours. He can't be sure how long he has been on his own or how long he was out, but being here with someone else felt somewhat comforting. "I woke up like this," he mutters, almost embarrassed that he has no more to say on the subject. When he looks to his left, he finds himself confronted by Keith's eyes staring at him and jumps in place. Getting used to Keith's appearance might take longer than he expects.

Keith licks his lips in thought and clears his throat. "Me too." He reaches up to touch his large ears. They adorn the side of his head, peaking out through the abundance of his normal hair framing his face. "I woke up and I was this... monstrosity." The word sounds like it burns his tongue when he says it, full of spite and the threat of oncoming tears. Keith's hands drop down to his thighs again and he glances with furrowed brows over the purple fur that covers his bare chest. The look is one degree short of revulsion and seeing it makes Shiro's chest tighten.

"We're both here now. We found each other," Shiro declares. He places a hand on Keith's shoulder and hs body flinches beneath his touch, but it softens at the sound of Shiro's sigh. "I'm tired. You're tired. We seem pretty okay here, right? Maybe we should rest." His eyebrows raise with a sense of hope he hasn't felt before now. His body screams at him from every aching muscle and every bleeding cut. It's about time that he stops and waits and lets himself rest. Now he simply has some company to do so.

Running a hand through his hair, Keith considers the suggestion. His posture is nothing short of one wracked with worry and guilt, but he nods, slowly at first, in agreement. "I don't want to hurt you." His eyes dart to the marks he's left in Shiro's arm. "But maybe if I sleep this will all go away. This nightmare will end." He shuffles cautiously closer and lays his head against Shiro's shoulder. His whole body goes limp, finally letting down his guard and closing his eyes.

All Shiro can hear in the next few moments are the mismatched sounds of their breathing and the short sparks of his arm trying desperately to work. He breaks the peaceful silence as he gently takes hold of Keith's hand in his and tries to soothe them both to sleep. "We can hope. We can hope." Keith's skin feels odd against his when he nudges his hand under its claws and cradles it. As Keith lies there, the fierce beast he had fought mere minutes ago seems so fragile, falling asleep against him like this.

Taking a deep breath, Shiro lets himself lean back against the wall. His damaged Galra arm falls down beside him, light persisting even as he closes his eyes. When he rests his head against Keith's, he wonders whether he can truly know if they are safe like this, safe from each other. He decides that he's too injured, too tired, and far too comfortable to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> E1. squeezes Keith's hand and falls asleep with a sigh  
> E2. places a soft kiss upon Keith's head and drifts off to sleep
> 
> [Make your vote by August 11th 11:59pm EDT](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>  
> 
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/148839463719/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberry) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.

Shiro places a soft kiss upon Keith's head and drifts off to sleep, fading slowly into the black of his mind. He can feel the faint softness of Keith's purple fur on his lips, but with the blood dripping down and drying on his face, it's little more than yet another discomfort.

He sinks into the dream with no resistance holding him back. He forgets the cold chill of the ship and the pain in his leg. There's a small bliss in sleep that lets him breathe easy. His body slumps against Keith's and he can feel the warmth of his body against him, making the echo of the room feel safer with him near.

Next thing Shiro knows is he's standing the same corridor he woke up in, firmly balanced on his feet. His injuries are gone, his face doesn't sting, and he feels no pain. Something within the blinking green lights feels so very wrong, yet Shiro can't put his finger on it. He turns behind him to find nothing. More nothing waits before him as he turns around again.

"Where am I?" he asks of the walls. His echo answers him, darker and crueller than when it had left his mouth. The voice does not seem to be his. "Wasn't I just here?" The same echo follows back and it hisses in his ear, sending a cold shiver down his spine. The voice seems to bite and nip at his skin, pulling at it with tiny pinpricks. He swallows the next attempt to speak.

Huffing, he starts to sprint down the dark corridor, heading towards the glow of light that has just appeared in the distance. The corridor before him grows longer and longer, speeding forward quicker than Shiro can run. Soon it glows in all mixtures of purple, light coming from the wall, from the floors, from Shiro's body itself.

He can't tell which direction he's going when the lights get in his eyes. The sound of his echo growls at him, repeating 'Wasn't I just here?' The corridor ends in a sharp turn, reminiscent of where he had met Keith, but in the pitch black room he finds, he's surrounded by his own image. The flashing purple seeming to come from his own arm flashes and captures reflection upon reflection of his own face in a lining of purple.

Hand pressing against every panel, he tries to escape, fingers leaving marks across the glass. His face is obscured in all the reflections facing him, their heads downward while he snaps his own this way and that. Not one of them look his way. They're more like shadows, shrouded in black, tilting their heads and stretching their necks. There's no escape from them regardless of where Shiro looks.

Suddenly their heads snap up and catch his eye with their own, glowing a crude, bright yellow, narrowing to draw him closer. He's pulled towards the glass against his will, both hands hitting the mirrors, struggling to push away. He hears Pidge's cry, a grunt of pain that could only be Hunk, and the begging pleas of Lance in the background. The shadows laugh at him, each one a sinister version of him. They flick and flash and blur altogether into one image that grins his way, face pressed up against the glass as Shiro finds his nose hopelessly pressed against it.

His body is cold, too cold, and the pain starts to bite at his ankles again. He tries to move, but his feet are held to the ground by shadows, their cruel sharp fingers curled around his legs. There's nowhere for him to go and the only view before him is his own reflection. Each time he struggles to cry out, his voice comes out strangled, choked back by the tears now running down his face.

"Shiro... Shiro?" calls Keith's voice in the background. Yet another voice in the din surrounding him. It sounds so close and so far, but beneath the sound of his own laughter he can barely hope to believe it's anything more that wishful thinking for the nightmare to end.

His dark reflection smirks at him, teeth glinting in the purple flashing light. For all his staring, he has not blinked once. Those yellow eyes seem to bore holes into his soul, filling him with doubt and guilt and anxiety. It chuckles and laughs and growls, trying to tell him something as it plays the sounds of his team over and over again.

Another of those sounds screams loudly at him. "Shiro?!" It tries to sound concerned and make him worry. He can't give into that sound. It's another one of his shadow's tricks. Keith is right beside him. He has to believe Keith is right beside him. He struggles to hold onto what he knows is true when he can hear the pained tone in those voices.

"Shiro!" Keith yells and can feel a hand on his shoulder. It shakes him and Shiro wakes to find his hand squeezing Keith's arm. "You're fine now. You're fine, okay?" Arms wrap around him despite his struggle against them. The tension in his muscles still simmers beneath the surface. He feels like he needs to run, like he's been running all night. He can't even tell how long he's been asleep.

He looks down, letting his eyes adjust to the light, and barely captures the tense expression on Keith's face. His hand is digging into Keith's skin. His grip is tight, ridiculously tight. He immediately lets go of his teammate's wrist with a gasp, noticing how the bruises have begun to blossom on Keith's purple skin.

"I did this?" Shiro's eyes widen. His stomach churns at the idea that he could do something so cruel. Keith keeps looking at his face with concern. "You should-- you should get away from me." Even with the short purple fur across his body, he looks more worried about Shiro's well-being than the fact his arm was just held tight enough to mark him.

Shrugging his shoulders up, Shiro tries to shuffle away. Keith follows along with him, hands settling on his arm, refusing to let go. "I should say the same." His smile is small and fleeting. Shiro has to admit that he has a point. Staying in these corridors isn't going to do either of them any good. They have to keep moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> F1. shakily gets to his feet and starts leading the way  
> F2. sighs and asks Keith what they should do next
> 
> [Make your vote by August 11th 11:59pm EDT](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>  
> 
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/149270846319/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberry) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm so sorry that this update has come this late. Things got rather complicated in my personal life. So to make up for it, I've made this week's update twice as long <3 Thank you for your patience as always.

Shiro sighs and asks Keith what they should do next in the only way he knows how, “Where to?” He struggles to look up at the concerned bright yellow eyes focussed on his and manages to meet his eyes after a brief hesitation. Keith nods towards the dark corner of their earlier encounter. Shiro swears he can still feel Keith’s claws in his metal arm. It’s slowly losing its function again, fingers twitching uselessly, and the weight of it is starting to tug it down to his side once more.

He struggles to push himself up and topples forward into Keith's awaiting hands. His hands are gentle, pressing gingerly in such a stark contrast to hours before. He winces as Shiro catches on the recent bruise. Neither of them say a word until they stand upright and Keith nudges himself under Shiro's arm for support. "This way I think," Keith answers breathlessly, adjusting himself so he can carry Shiro’s weight. Cautiously stepping forward, he leads the way, purple ears twitching and searching for noise around them.

"Is this the way you came?" Shiro asks with a croak, finding his voice raw and painful. Speaking seems to have become another struggle along with everything else. He wonders how long this will last, moving from place to place and never quite being safe. Even with Keith beside him now there’s a flicker of worry that Keith isn’t quite himself, but he can’t let that get to him. It’s not like he’s completely innocent himself.

Keith pauses and his muscles tense beneath Shiro’s weight. "I... don't remember..." He’s strangely cat-like in the way his eyes widen, unable to hide the surprise that stirs within him. He shakes it away with a look down and a small nod. He’s determined as always, taking Shiro’s own burdens and carrying them along with him as if he had no baggage to carry himself. He has enough of his own pain, but here he is helping and struggling too. Shiro’s stomach tenses at the thought of it.

"Where did you wake up?" The question follows from Shiro’s lips with a frown. He can feel the worry sinking into his features as they start down another corridor. In the dim light, he wonders how much Keith can feel in his new form, how much he can read by holding him like this. _He_ should be the one to carry them both, but once again Shiro finds himself as not the man he thought he was.

"Somewhere further down the ship." Keith sounds cautious when he starts answering. His voice holds the hint of a quake in his chest that Shiro can’t feel. Instead Shiro looks out the windows to the endless darkness outside. It flickers with faraway stars, burning brightly, too far away to give them light. Keith’s clearing of his throat draws Shiro’s attention back. "Started searching for the source of the distress beacon with Lance and then my memory gets fuzzy."

Shiro turns back to watch Keith’s face. His features have changed to a mixture of concentration and worry, eyebrows drawn together, somehow still looking human despite his transformation. Shiro feels guilty when he asks another question to add to the obvious clutter of them already in his friend’s mind, "Fuzzy?"

Keith frowns, but doesn’t stop to answer. Their shuffling moves them further and further from where Shiro woke up, from where they found each other. Keith appears more than happy to leave everything behind them. "I don't know..." His face falls, features and ears sagging at the inner works in his head. For a second Shiro’s breath catches, noting that he’s never seen one of the Galra sad before. Perhaps Keith isn’t that much like them after all. Maybe there’s still some hope there.

Shiro’s thoughts immediately turn to the way he had met Keith, how they had come to blows mere moments after being running into each other. If all Keith can remember is being with Lance then waking up, he has to wonder what that means given how Keith is now. "And Lance?" he asks cautiously, feeling a tension build up in his chest. He looks away to the corridor floor, unable to see the answer to that question before hearing it.

"I..." A syllable is all Keith says at first. It quickly fades into breath like a mistaken word. Shiro can feel his friend’s eyes settle on him, the guilt in his stance weakening his shoulders. There's something so broken in the beast Keith appears to be with all of the fight having dripped down his legs to the floor. "If I did that to you... I don't want to think about what --" He stops himself short with a sound that's part croak, part whimper, and part gasp. None of which Shiro can discern any better as the silence follows. Only Keith’s quiet addition breaks that shaky tension in the air. "I hope he's okay."

Shiro lets himself adjust to the dense feeling the air has taken on. The corridor seems to shrink and swallow all the light they can see, then they flicker pitifully and break into darkness. In the pitch blackness that drenches the two of them, the windows to the starry expanse outside seems brighter, but neither of them can see anything but nameless stars.

"Last I heard you two were fighting." Shiro seems to speak to the echo around them, sounding it out for the familiarity those words hold. He’s not done speaking, but the lack of response in Keith makes him pause. Their pace together slows. They push on in the darkness, hoping light lies behind the next corner. Maybe -- Shiro dares to imagine -- Lance isn’t far off either and he’ll be able to hear them argue once again. "I couldn't leave you two in a room together without... sorry..." Shiro’s face contorts and he exhales loudly, pushing out the pain still searing across his body.

Keith shrugs in the way he always tends to when he’s brushing something off. "It's fine." There’s more to it that Shiro can see, but if Keith isn’t willing to talk about it, there’s not much he can do. "Look at me now... I'm... I don't even want to say it.” His voice breaks, a small growl following in frustration that further breaks into a sob. Keith tilts his head forward to stare at his chest. He closes his eyes tight as if he’s trying to block images from his mind. He looks more in pain than he has all this time and Shiro’s chest tightens.

"You're still you,” Shiro insists, nudging themselves forward with a push of his feet to the ground. The corridor soon empties into a larger room. Darkness gives way to a cold blue glow. Lights line the walls, the vents, and the ceiling in small dots. The floor of the room stretches out before them and out to the side. Shiro thinks he might be able to breathe fully for the first time since he regained consciousness.

Keith stops them a few feet into the room. He huffs a loud exhale, presses his lips together, and casts a worried glance. "And _this_ me hurt you…” His gaze falls to the claw marks in Shiro’s arm and gulps. “And probably hurt Lance." His voice strains to get the words out, eyebrows raising in concern, mind lost to the thoughts swirling in his head.

“We don’t know that…” Shiro puts a heavy hand on Keith’s shoulder. A shiver passes through his friend’s body before he collapses to the floor with a low growl. “Keith?” Shiro struggles to gain his own balance and watches as Keith digs his fingers into the floor. He feels so painfully useless like this, barely whole and barely functioning, and watching as his friend suffers at his feet.

Keith’s purple ears twitch and curl while growls rip from his throat. “Get away!” His shoulders hunch and his back arches. His feet push behind him on their own accord, trying to push himself up from his knees. “I’ll--” He grits his teeth, fangs showing through his grimace. “I’ll h-hurt you.” Despite the ripple of muscle contractions through his body, Keith throws his arm out, gesturing desperately to be left alone.

Shiro can’t believe what he’s seeing. The same beast he met before seems to be tearing Keith apart from the inside. He has to believe that his friend is in there somewhere, that he found the right person. He has to believe it. There was little chance of finding anyone else in the ship, but Keith is a glimmer of hope. Even if he is different and strange, he’s still Keith and Shiro is going to see that he stays with him. “No, that’s not happening.”

“Go!” Keith yelps to the floor, throwing himself down only to struggle pushing himself up again. His teeth bare when he peers up at Shiro’s. The hint of a dark smile tugs at his purple lips. It reminds Shiro of his dream with the same way his stomach drops at sight of the twisted expression. Except this time it’s Keith’s face, not his.

As Shiro reaches out, a bright light shoots past them both. A loud sharp sound follows after it hits the ground. His eyes snap to the burning marks on the floor. Another one follows, then another. They hit the ground in a series of short bursts. Smoke rises from the scorched circular marks they leave. Shiro’s head darts to look around the room and finds nothing but a ledge above them at the far end of the room. He can’t see the shooter beyond the shadows cast by blue lights, but he has to be on that ledge.

The shots continue and with Keith writhing on the ground in pain, Shiro finds himself moving to put himself between Keith and the gunman. He might be shot this way but he can’t let Keith stay there unarmed and unprotected while he deals with whatever has worked its way under and over his skin. He still continues to growl, scratch, and snarl up at Shiro’s back. Keith isn’t that beast. Shiro is sure of that. If someone is after him, as this shooter seems to be, he doesn’t plan on making it easy for them.

“Why don’t you come out where we can see you?!” Shiro yells out to the empty room. It feels strange to have his voice fall flat. The lack of echo sounds odd after hearing his own voice turn cold and unpleasant when it curled back on him. “You’re going to have to shoot through me!” He throws his arms out to the side. He’s not a large target and it’s unlikely that the shooter could miss him, yet the stranger continues to shoot warning shots around the two of them. Not a single one hits anywhere but the ground.

Three more shots follow before they stop. An eerie silence follows. Shiro stands firm in position, testing whether his knees can still hold him with a small sway, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He’s impressed he’s still capable of standing. He’s come so far, fought everything on his way here. He’s not about to let himself back down because someone decides to point a gun at him.

A loud huff forces its way out his nose. “He can’t… he can’t control it.” He isn’t sure why he feels he needs to say it, but he has something itching at the back of his mind that tells him to explain why Keith is struggling on the ground. Much to his relief, his friend seems to be calming down. His clawing is now only pawing and his movements have slowed.

A cautious, terse voice calls back to Shiro. It’s just as uncertain as it is firm, sounding of wariness and suspicion. “You can’t trust him.” It sounds more hurt than vindictive when Shiro plays the voice over in his head. It sounds familiar, even from the distance, even though he can just hear it above Keith’s growling and his own breathing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> G1. steps forward and holds his chin up, defiant  
> G2. surrenders them both, hands up in the air 
> 
> [Make your vote by September 9th 11:59pm EDT](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>  
> 
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/149842554519/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberry) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.
> 
> \---
> 
> Sorry for the delay, once again. I ended up getting completely sidetracked by my birthday and work but I've planned double helping to make up for it. I shall have the second part of this week's update very soon.
> 
> This is the first time that the votes were tied and many of you said that you couldn't decide, so here's both of them worked in together. Enjoy~

Shiro steps forward and holds his chin up, defiant. He isn't about to just give up. If the shooter meant to hurt them, they would have done so by now. "Says who?!" he yells towards the shadow he sees moving on the ledge. The shooter's crouched down, probably aiming for the next shot. 

"He's not..." Shiro begins and stops immediately when he remembers he can't say that Keith hasn't hurt anyone. His arm is still blinking and sparking, every part of him is still hurting. It can't be too bad for him to surrender them both right there if that's what the shooter wants. They don't seem to actually want Keith dead... though the alternatives that run through Shiro's mind aren't that much better either.

Tonguing over his teeth and huffing out short breaths, he raises his good hand into the air as a sign of surrender, his body still tense and ready for protect Keith if he needs to. A compromise will be the best option, but he will need to look less of a threat with Keith still snapping and growling at the air by his feet. He pushes out his chest and hopes he looks like a force not to be reckoned with, despite the blood caked across his face. 

Keith whimpers behind him. "Sh-Shiro, don't... test him. It's..." Shiro turns to watch as Keith curls over, back aching up, his shoulders drawing in. The pain seems to ripple through his purple fur as a shiver. All of the brown hair that had been there is now purple, just like the rest of him. The worry that the Keith he knows is almost completely gone forces Shiro to look away. Of all the things he has seen and heard, the sounds of Keith's despair are by far the worst.

Shiro bites his lip, considers what he needs to say, and takes a cautious step towards the shadow of the shooter. He can just make out the figure standing, gun toted about their shoulder. He calls out again, hoping they might see reason, "We're alone and we don't mean any harm. We're both..." Shiro checks back and remembers the bruises he left on Keith's arm. The same arm shakes under the writhing muscles fighting against Keith's will. "Injured."

Silence answers him and the shadow of the figure moves, pacing across their ledge. Shiro wishes he could cross the room to bring them down to question them himself, but he can't leave Keith alone for a second. There's still a chance that the shooter might take his shot if Shiro's safely out of the way. It's a risk he's not willing to take. 

"Don't mean any harm?" The shooter questions him, voice shaking in disbelief. It's still familiar but after the dream Shiro had, he can't trust what he thinks he knows right now. Instead he watches, and he can just see the shadow shaking their head, pacing back and forth, holding the gun close to their chest. Their erratic movements make Shiro tense and he worries that they seem to be on edge, ready to take their gun and fire at them at any moment. "What about him? You're the one that's bleeding."

Shiro has to admit that the stranger has a point. Keith's claw marks are still deep into the metal and wires of his arm. There's no arguing against the fact he was attacked by Keith, but that moment has passed. Even with Keith growling and snarling and clawing at the ground, body tense as he whimpers in pain, he hasn't made any move to hurt Shiro again. He has to trust that Keith is himself, just enough to hold himself back. He desperately wants to believe that his friend is more human than Galra.

Lowering his hand, Shiro clenches his jaw and grunts through gritted teeth, "Come and look at him for yourself!" His face contorts, twisting his features with a twinge of pain. "Unless you're too afraid to face him!" A callout like this is always a risk. Either it'll backfire and he'll be shot or it'll hit right where Shiro's aiming and force the shooter to confront him face to face. He can't do anything from this distance, but up close he has a chance. 

Another bout of silence follows and for a second Shiro doubts he has made the right decision. The figure is moving again, but slower. There's a hint of hesitation before the shadow shrinks in size, apparently squatting down again to take a shot. Shiro's shoulders immediately tense and he steps before Keith, who growls at the suddenly movement. 

He waits for the inevitable shot coming their way, convinced that he can take the pain, that it's just another gash to clean when they're finally safe. His whole body tenses, brows furrowed, staring off into the distance and waiting... and waiting... but no shot comes. In a flash the shadow falls from the ledge. The figure hits the ground with an awkward shuffle of limbs before rolling gracelessly over into a crumpled position on the floor. The gun clatters beside them and Shiro thanks whatever luck he has that it didn't go off.

"I thought that was going to feel a lot cooler than than that it was." The voice of the shadow grunts and winces as they push themselves up from the ground and grab for their gun. They hobble towards Shiro and Keith, chuckling under their breath. "At least it looked cool... right?" Their flippant tone relaxes the tension Shiro feels in his body, but he stands there no less confused.

The shadow falls from the figure when they grow close and the light flashing from Shiro's arm reaches them. That mess of brown hair, that same quizzical expression with the pointed chin, the smile that makes the most serious of moments comical. Shiro knew he recognised that voice, but Shiro didn't want to believe it until the face before him proves his suspicions right. 

He blinks and lets his mouth hang open for a moment, ignoring the stinging across his face as his expression cracks through the dried blood. "Lance?!" He feels a surge of frustration through his chest that leaves him as a disgruntled sigh. "Why were you shooting at us?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can vote for what happens next once the next chapter is out because this is a double update! For now, feel free to leave a comment below.
> 
> \---
> 
> If you liked this and want to share it on Tumblr, you can find the Tumblr post [here](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/150489057674/echo-chamber).
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberry) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/).


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.
> 
> \---
> 
> Here's part two of the double update. When it comes to the events of this chapter, let's just say that different things horrify different people and you can blame my sense of humour for this.

Lance shrugs and nurses his gun into position, hovering just warily enough that he can easily shoot Keith if he wants to. "He's feral..." He gestures with his free hand, watching as their friend slowly gains control of himself again. "You can't trust him." Lance's tone seems so matter-of-fact and so resigned to that fact that it sounds like a sigh.

Shiro can't stop thinking about how many calls he made out, how he got through to Pidge, and here's Lance apparently fine. "You've just been sitting there?" he asks, somewhere between frustrated and disbelieving. Lance could have found them at any point, could have heard his calls. "I sent out a message."

On the floor, Keith huffs, settling his weight onto his knees and leaving his palms firmly on the ground. He looks up when Lance answers, "My communicator's on the fritz. Can barely get anything." His eyes exchange a nervous glance with the yellow eyes peering up at him. He gulps to clear his throat before he continues, "Heard Pidge though... briefly... have you seen them?"

Shiro's gaze falls to Keith behind him. He breathes a sigh of relief to see the tension in Keith's back has almost gone. Where growls and snarls had been, there's only the soft sound of ragged breathing. Shiro can't look away when he answers, "No... and you haven't either then..." He frowns before turning back to Lance with an accusative stare. "Still doesn't explain why you were shooting at us!"

Lance shrugs and directs a hand towards Keith on the floor. "He's Galra..." He shrugs again and mouths a series of excuses that make no sound. "Plus he bit me." The tone of Lance's voice rises. His faces changes to something between annoyed and insulted, as if Keith had simply slapped him across the face.

The tension in the air hangs between them all. Lance's eyes cast suspicion towards Keith as Shiro looks over them both with apprehension. This is news to him. Though he's hardly surprised that he doesn't know. Either Keith forgot or conveniently forgot to tell him. Neither of those options sit well with Shiro at all.

"You were still shooting at me," Keith complains, the growl in his voice has gone and left behind is a scratchy semblance of something human in tone. It scratches as he breathes through his mouth. He pushes himself up and leans back onto his legs, claws resting on his knees.

Lance frowns and shuffles awkwardly in place. He looks as insulted as he sounds. "You bit me..." He gestures towards his neck, pulling at the collar of his old brown jacket aside to reveal a dark purple bruise on his neck. Barely showing a sign of teeth, it looks more like something other than a bite mark.

"That's not--" Keith starts with a small gasp, quickly turning his head to check with Shiro before dragging his hands up his thighs. The look of surprise and confusion and regret appears stranger with Galra features.

In disbelief, Lance raises his voice and repeats, "You _bit_ me..." He points to the mark on his neck, glancing up to Shiro for help with his argument. He winces as his finger touches the bruise harder than he intends.

The two of them stare at each with a series of exchanged glances that Shiro can barely read. The tension sits in the air with a heavy weight, choking at his breath. He hopes this is only temporary, that the bite means nothing. He leans closer to get a better look and realises why he can't make out teeth marks. "That's not a bite, not exactly."

Lance scoffs and shakes his head. The gun in his hand jostles at his movement and Shiro instinctively reaches out to grab it. He stops himself when Lance steps his way and points to his neck again, "It is... look at it. See the mark there? On my neck?"

Struggling to not roll his eyes, Shiro sighs instead and nods in defeat. He's made his way through most of the ship, bleeding and aching, and he has to wonder if Lance's own preoccupation with his mark is perhaps the most painful thing he has dealt with yet. "Lance, have you actually--"

"I woke up and found _this_ on my neck. There's teeth marks," Lance interrupts him before Shiro can finish. He circles around the mark again with a finger and leans to expose his neck more. The outer edges have started to yellow while smaller marks circle around it, going up and down his neck. He makes a show of it in Keith's direction, raising his eyebrows in accusation.

Avoiding their gazes, Keith looks down at his hands. "I guess... yeah..." His voice tremors while his hands dig into his thighs. He looks broken by the idea that he has hurt someone else again. Shiro swears he can hear the breath of a choked whimper leave his lips.

Shiro can't believe that Keith has turned on Lance like this, not when the mark looks so strange. He steps forwards, pulls at the jacket collar himself, and declares with some frustration when he realises why it looks odd, "Lance, that's a hickey."

In a second Lance's face changes and he cranes his neck in an attempt to stare at the mark himself. His eyes immediately dart to Keith. "You were on top of me..." he speaks aloud as the realisation hits him. His eyes open wider than they've been in the last few minutes.

Just as confused, Keith breathes out, "Yeah..." His yellow eyes widen and his ears twitch. He seems to be just as surprised by this news as Lance does.

Shiro steps back when Lance's hand reaches up to cover the mark. "Your mouth was on my neck..." The gun starts to drop from his grip but is caught quickly as Shiro's hand grabs hold of it, dragging it out of reach while he watches his two friends let the reality crash over them. He wonders briefly whether the hardest part of surviving will be with his wounds or with the two of them.

"Yeah..." Keith simply repeats and reaches up to touch his lips. Panicked yellow eyes look up at Shiro like one of them is meant to say something to each other. The dark light in the room seems to hide the way Lance seems to oscillate on his feet and the way Keith scratches at his legs.

Uncertain as to whether either of them can see the unimpressed expression on his face, Shiro lets out a long tired sigh. He's spent far too long trying to move somewhere, get somewhere safe, and here he is waiting for the penny to drop in both of their heads. "Do you two need a moment?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> H1. places the gun on the floor  
> H2. turns to Lance to ask what's on his mind
> 
> [Make your vote by September 22nd 11:59pm EDT](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
> \----
> 
> I hope a lot of you are still onboard after the events of this chapter. The response is a lot quieter than usual so it has me worried. I hope you guys are still keen to see how the story progresses. 
> 
> \----  
>    
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/150530256224/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberry) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.
> 
> \---
> 
> I'm so sorry for the extended absence. I've had a lot of things going on personally and have been working very slowly towards this new chapter. I hope you'll forgive me.
> 
> From this point on my updates will have to be more sporadic, but I will try to at least be regular with them. I have so much more still planned and I hope you're all still with me. Thank you for reading!

Shiro turns to Lance to ask what's on his mind, watching for a brief moment as the two of them stare stupidly at each other. There’s no point waiting for either of them to answer his previous question, he has to pull them together and get them all out of here. “Where have you been so far?”

Lance blinks and gestures behind him with a sweeping motion. “Out that way. Nothing much there. Not even food.” He frowns and his eyes flicker down to the gun still in Shiro’s hand. Reflexively his fingers curl, trying to reach out for it in his obvious distress of not having it in his hand.   
  
Shiro grabs Lance’s gun tighter and steps away to peer out into the shadows in the distance. Even the lights of the sparse room can’t make what lies back there clear to him. He’d just have to risk moving forward with Lance as the most capable among them. Perhaps it’s a stroke of luck on their part to have found him.

Shiro turns around, legs still aching, expression on his face as tight as his lips when they pull into a frown. Keith seems to have relaxed, moving up to rest on his knees. He looks no less embarrassed than he was before, if Galra can even look embarrassed. It’s hard to imagine him attacking Lance at all with the way he looks now. No doubt it was another one of their squabbles that went more intimate than before. Shiro would have to hide his amused smirk at their predicament.

“I’m… hungry, Shiro,” Keith huffs out between heavy breaths. His exhales sound shaky, exhausted. He’s looking worse after his last... incident. It’s only the second Shiro’s seen but they seem to be taking more of a hold on him each time. “And tired.”

Shiro ducks down to place Lance’s gun on the floor. The less he has that in his hands, the better. He can feel the fatigue getting to him again. The stress of being shot at, at seeing Keith on the ground struggling to fight against whatever urges are within him, and the constant worry of where Pidge and Hunk might be is starting to wear him down.

He takes to the floor and starts to stretch out the muscles in his legs. There’s no imminent danger with no one shooting at him and Keith, both too tired and hungry to move. He can’t keep going if everyone he meets is out to get him at first. His heart has barely begun to calm.

Lance sits by his side, head tilting with wide eyes, light catching in them and making them glow blue. “You look like shit, Shiro.” His tone is one of surprise and disbelief with just a hint of a laugh. Quieter, almost in a whisper, he asks, “What the fuck happened to you?”

Shiro has to bite back the urge to retort back something spiteful, something about how Lance had shot at him, maybe some choice words about Keith’s claws, but he knows better than to say that. He’s better than that. He’s a better leader than that. Or at least he likes to try to be.

“Arm was Keith’s doing,” he answers as calmly as he can, hoisting his arm up for Lance’s inspection, remembering the beast he thought Keith was. Even now he has to wonder if Keith might change back again if they sleep, but the hickey on Lance’s neck tells a strange, if not positive, alternative. 

Lance edges closer and shuffles himself to Shiro’s side. “He went easier on me then.” His gaze doesn’t turn away from Shiro’s injuries for a second, assessing each one with a new expression on his face. He lifts one hand, letting it hover with fingers twitching, unsure what to do with it at first. “Did he… the rest of them?”

Shiro peered over to Keith, whose eyes looked back at him, open and scared. His ears twitch as his eyes fall to the ground once more and he starts to crawl his way closer. He looks defeated, by their encounter, by the very thing that seems to be crawling in his veins and resurfacing at every opportune moment. He draws near and collapses to the floor, letting his head rest on Shiro’s knee, hair falling across his face.

Lance grows quiet then, watching with lips parted as Keith closes his eyes like a large placid cat. There’s no need for an answer. Shiro can tell just from the way Lance’s shoulders relax and the soft exhale that follows. “Guess not,” he concludes, letting his hand fall to Shiro’s other knee.

Resting his arm on his thigh, Shiro can’t help but notice the lights of his arm are glowing fainter and fainter as time goes on. He wonders how much longer it’ll last like this as a hint of the light frames Keith’s face. It makes Keith appear so much softer, even weaker. Shiro raises his metal hand to brush absently through the Keith’s fur and over one of his ears. A moment of quiet would do them all some good.

“Neither of you have seen Hunk, have you?” Lance asks finally, quietly, and looks up hopeful, eyebrows struggling to keep still in his worry. There’s a vulnerability that works through his muscles, unable to keep still even when he’s sitting down. His limbs fidget and move as his shoulders hunch together. How he managed to hold a gun steady, Shiro doesn’t know.

Keith hums a ‘No’ against Shiro’s leg, barely moving at this point and likely drifting off to sleep again. His body has already curled up as if to protect himself in his sleep. Shiro can’t look away when he shakes his head, thinking of how much more he could have done if he had only dealt with everything better, if he wasn’t so… damaged.

Nervously, Lance moves closer to Shiro, rubbing at the mark on his neck. He doesn’t seem as bothered by it anymore. His eyes instead focus on the scratches across Shiro’s body, the gash, the blood, the wound on his face. “We need to find him. Find Pidge too.” There’s a small quiver to his lip this time. Shiro gulps away the guilt that surges in him again. They’re all vulnerable now. Lost and tired and injured in their own ways. 

“I can, uh, I can help with the…” Lance gestures awkwardly in circles at the series of Shiro’s wounds. He can barely keep eye contact with Shiro, not that either of them are trying that hard. “You know. I can help with that. Big family. Lots of accidents.” Lance laughs awkwardly. “Not  _ those _ kinds. Though my sister did… nevermind.” His hand gingerly works up Shiro’s thigh. “Basically, she was a  _ complete _ klutz.”

Shiro watches Lance’s hand with a careful interest. He gasps suddenly at the sharp pain that sears his leg when Lance finds the gash with his fingertips, but Shiro says nothing of it. Somehow Lance’s rambling on about his sister is helping. Even Keith seems to have fallen asleep because of it. 

“There’s this one time,” Lance continues, leaning in to inspect each one of Shiro’s wounds as if it doesn’t bother him one bit. He keeps talking as if he needs the words out of his lips in order to breathe. “Where she fell off her bike. With  _ training wheels _ .” The laughter that rings in the room is nervous, distracted, but the odd warmth of it serves as a nice distraction. “So of course  _ I _ had to patch her up. She managed to split her lip, with her teeth, with a helmet on. I mean, it’s nothing like this, but I  _ think _ I can help.”   
  
Finished with his inspection, Lance moves to start playing with his chin, tips of his fingers grabbing and pushing over the skin. An idea suddenly coming to his mind and playing across his face, he fumbles through his jacket and pulls out all manner of things. Some of which Shiro isn’t entirely sure he’s ever seen before. In his preoccupation, he doesn’t hear Lance’s question at first and starts when Lance leans himself into Shiro’s gaze to repeat it again, “So, what’ll it be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> ɪ1. sighs and nods for Lance to continue despite his concerns  
> ɪ2. shakes his head and closes his weary eyes
> 
> [Make your vote by November 24th 7:00pm EST](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
> \----
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me through this hard time. Writer's block gets the worst of us, especially when we're bogged down by work and hard personal circumstances. I hope you've enjoyed the new update and all the new ones to come!
> 
> \----  
>    
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/153341430694/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.

Shiro sighs and nods for Lance to continue despite his concerns. “Go ahead. We’re not going anywhere fast.” It can't hurt to sit still for a while and let Keith sleep. Whatever is happening to him, it seems to die down when he closes his eyes. Lingering here can only work out for the best.

"Okay, cool." Lance's eyes open wide. Apparently he hadn't expected Shiro to give him the go ahead, to trust him after the shit he's pulled. "So this is probably going to sting..." Lance warns and pours a suspicious liquid onto something white and fluffy.

Shiro frowns when said fluffy thing is suddenly being rubbed across the bridge of his nose. It burns, searing into his skin like Lance has opened the wound again. Shiro grits his teeth and closes his eyes, waiting for it all to be over. He doesn't realise his growl until he opens his eyes to find Lance ridiculously close to his face.

Shiro moves away quickly. The pain is still there, still burning away, but Lance's look of surprise has caught his attention. Lance apologises quickly, "S-sorry. I told you it was going to sting." He laughs nervously, leaning in and touching gingerly over the wound. "That should have it clean now." He follows his touch with something made of fabric. It's awkwardly cut and sticking to his fingers, but it seals over the wound with ease. Shiro assumes its some kind of bandage.

"Did you make this?" Crossing his eyes, Shiro tries to get a better look at it. He's quickly distracted by the hot stinging on his thigh. "Fff-- warn me when you do that, Lance!" He draws in a sharp inhale over his teeth. God, that isn't something he thought he'd have to experience again, yet here he is suffering the same pains all over again.

Lance smiles apologetically and nods. "Gotta use what you have, I guess." His shoulders shrug at the look Shiro gives him and he moves back to his work. He cleans Shiro's wounds one by one and bandages him up. Lance doesn't say anything more until he's done. "Should I... kiss it better?"

Shiro pulls a face at Lance's awkward laughter that follows. He's not entirely sure how to take it. Nerves get the best of everyone in the dark and Shiro's not about to make the situation anymore complicated that it is already. "Save the kisses for later."

Lance's eyes dart away and he swallows loudly. "Y-yeah," he whispers to a particular part of his shoulder he seems to be interested in. "You feeling any better?" Lance settles back and tucks all of his creations back into his jacket.

Shiro moves his arms and his legs to test the pain. Where he has felt the sting and restriction of scratches and gashes, he feels the tug of well-placed bandages. His metal arm however is growing weaker, light blinking for the attention it so desperately needs. While he hasn't admitted it to himself, he might very well lose it, and if he doesn't find Hunk, he may not have a functional arm again.

Lance opens his mouth to say something and is cut off by the sound of static. A loud crackle and squeak echoes in the room, reminding Shiro just how big the room they’re in is. He quickly checks himself for the source of the noise. He finds nothing. The sound continues like a screeching growl. It's the unmistakable sound of a radio.

Patting himself down, Lance finds his communicator at his hip. It screeches at him, all anger and static, crying out for their attention. A voice calls out in garbled whispers, low, almost demonic in its sound. "H-hello?"

Shiro's shoulders tense at the greeting. His eyes meet Lance and they have nothing to say. Keith doesn't even stir while they stare at each other and listen to the voice go on. "I don't think it's working. Let me just--"

The crackle breaks into those words. Shiro can't recognise the voice no matter how he tries and it seems Lance isn't having much luck either. His fingers work over the communicator in his hand. Nothing he does seems to make a difference. It continues to sputter electronic sounds.

"I thought you said it didn't work," Shiro says loudly, straining to raise his voice to be heard. Keith stirs on his lap and he feels a twinge of regret. If this means they're in danger, if this voice means them harm, waking can't be that bad of an option after all.

Lance looks dumbfounded, shaking the communicator like it will help make the message clearer. "I said it wasn't working properly. I still managed to hear Pidge before." Lance seems to be sweating, tensing, genuinely scared by the stream of ear piercing sounds it's making.

"Some... interfering... frequency" comes through the device and his grip weakens. It's about ready to drop when Shiro darts his hand out to support Lance's, fingers grabbing around clammy skin. The device calls out again. "Hi, hello, calling all humans?"

A weak shrill cry bursts from Lance's mouth and he starts to pull away. Shiro's grip is too tight to move anywhere so he relents to an uncomfortable position on his knees. "Please, Shiro. I don't want to hear this." The communicator flashes a warming orange up at both of them.

Shiro grimaces, knowing full well how he felt when he last heard this noise. Then it had been Pidge trying to get through, desperate for any form of contact, and he had to hear her scream his name. "We have to listen. We don't know what this means." Lance looks defeated the moment their eyes meet.

The crackling distortion rings through the room again. The emptiness around them weighs down on the top of them. Keith sleeping through it all beside him, evidently too exhausted to wake at something growing increasingly louder.

"What do we do then?" Lance asks, voice cracking. He keeps blinking, chest rising and falling. His bites his lip and worries at it while Shiro struggles for an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> J1. answers the transmission with radio protocol  
> J2. waits to hear more of the transmission
> 
> [Make your vote by December 2nd 7:00pm EST](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
> \----  
>    
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/153722511614/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.
> 
> More developments. More interesting things going on. I can't help myself.

Shiro waits to hear more of the transmission. He grips the communicator tighter in the hope it will speak before he has to. It crackles to life again a moment later, voice warped through the screeching of the electronic device. "Please respond. Please respond."

A deep sigh follows from Shiro's chest and he comes up with the only answer to Lance's question he can offer, "We just... wait..." He stares at the communicator and wishes for the sounds to stop, for something else to come through. He's not going to respond without knowing who he's responding to this time. He needs to know for sure that he's not about to jeopardise them all.

Lance gulps and shifts uncomfortably at Shiro's decision. He doesn't seem happy by any of it, getting closer to Shiro's side despite how pained he seems scuttling on his knees. "It... they... want us to respond?"

Shiro nods, but doesn't look up. The blinking light of the communicator has caught his eye and he finds himself stuck with thoughts of Pidge and their safety. He wonders whether he might have found them already if he had gone a different way. But then he may have never found Keith... but then his arm might still work...

"And we won't..." he mumbles back with conviction. He looks up and catches the glimpse of concern and horror in Lance's eyes. He shakes it away under Shiro's watch as if it it was never there, but the way he holds himself tells a different story. He's worried.

Lance moves to Shiro's side and leans against him. There's a shake in him that's struggling to stay under his skin. His eyes dart uneasily from the communicator to the peaceful look on Keith's face. "What if..." His voice trails off, unable to speak the frightening thoughts swirling in his mind.

Staring back at the communicator, jaw clenched, Shiro affirms, "We wait." He can feel the instant regret at the tension in his muscles, at the stern, blunt sound of his voice, but he needs something to fall back on. If he's not the strong one now, even with all of the bruises and bandages, he doesn't know what might happen to either Lance or Keith.

The loud insistent crackling and roaring of the communicator disrupts them like rolling waves crashing against a rocky shore. A haunting voice comes through the speaker as if it's trying to tear through the very speaker itself. "If I could just..." Lance flinches and presses himself up against Shiro's shoulder as more words tumble out of the device clenched in Shiro's hand.

"Yell... Li... Ye... Lion. Do you read?" growls the communicator. The message is barely more than a burst of noises, sparks of someone speaking. It comes through clearer, still so distorted that the sound is more akin to a beast from the depths of space than anything Shiro can recognise. "Does anyone read? That's how this thing works, yeah?"

Lance's eyes open wide and he scrambles for the communicator, ripping it from Shiro's hands. He almost falls into Shiro's lap with how quickly he rushes forward to press down the button to answer the message. "Hunk!"

Shiro freezes, torn between the terror of inciting whatever or whoever is on the other end and the bitter relief that Hunk may truly be speaking to them. They have no sign of whether or not it really is him beyond a few distorted fragments. Shiro wishes he could feel the same hope Lance has written all over his face.

"I mean... Blue Lion. How do you copy? Over," Lance calls into the microphone, holding it so close to his face he might as well be kissing it. His fingers curl around the communicator so desperately, leaning forward and keeping still like any movement might disturb the tentative connection.

A crackle answers back at first. Another warping sound of feedback and some other high-pitched sound follows. At last a voice comes through, a tad clearer, but still distorted beyond what Shiro would consider human. "Hello?"

Lance bites his lips and peers up at Shiro. His eyes look so hopeful, so desperate, that Shiro wonders how he could have been capable of shooting either of them earlier. "Blue Lion. Blue Lion. Do you copy?" His voice shakes between every glance he takes to check that he sounds okay, that he has Shiro's approval. All Shiro can do is watch and nod, knowing that the plan to wait has already evaporated. "Lance?!" calls through with a distinct clarity. It freezes both Lance and Shiro to their positions, mixing with the concoction of dread and hope already mixing in their stomachs. Shiro suspects he feels it a lot more than Lance does.

Elated by the recent news, Lance grins with a cautious smile. "He can hear us!" His eyes dart down to Keith who stirs at his sudden exuberance. He pulls a face and mouths a silent 'Sorry'. He presses the button down again. "Oh, thank god you're okay. How are you? Over."

The voice flickers between electronic garbling to something more human, more familiar. The more that Shiro wills himself to believe it, the more he can hear the warmth that he remembers in Hunk's voice, even with a few words. Though it feels so long since he last heard it. "Uh... Lost?"

"Are you hurt?" Lance asks, throwing aside all communication protocol. Normally Shiro would have cut in, told Lance to be clearer, ask the right questions, but he finds himself growing more tired as he listens. His eyes start to close with exhaustion creeping up his back. He wonders where Lance has gained this energy all of a sudden.

Hunk's laughter comes down the line, desperate and tired and squeaking with uncertainty, but there's a lightheartedness that says he's not too bad. "I mean, things hurt, but they're not too bad. Are you okay? Where are you? Lance, you've got to be careful I've heard---" The line cuts out with a screech and the sound of static.

Lance smacks the communicator against his hand. It rattles and cracks a little down the side, splitting the case where the plastic is weak. Lance doesn't seem to notice at all, pressing down the button and screaming into it. "Hunk, are you there? Hello?"

Shiro darts out his hand and catches Lance's in his, stopping his frantic shaking dead. They share a look for a cold second and Shiro has to remember how busted up he looks and how frightening he must look with frustration mixed into his features. "Connection's not working." As much as they can try again and again to contact Hunk, for now it's a hopeless endeavour, especially considering what shape they're all in.

Lance clears his throat and sits back up, leaving a gap between himself and Shiro. "What do we do now?" His eyes cast themselves to the ground. The disappointment has settled in him and defeat seems to have already overwhelmed him.

Shiro's heart aches at having to experience the same gut-wrenching loss of connection with one of their team. He's sure from watching it this time that he got off easy last time. He loosens his grip and moves it to rub over Lance's shoulder, trying to be reassuring. "I'm tired. Keith's... asleep. You... How are you doing?"

Lance's features soften, eyebrows raising. "I'm doing okay..." He pauses to stare at Shiro's hand brushing over his skin, how his fingers circle over the soft fabric of his shirt. "More relieved than a moment before."

A yawn breaks through Shiro's soft smile. His face stings at the sudden movement, but he ignores it like he's ignored every other ache and scratch so far. The need for rest, however, is catching up to him. "You think you can not shoot us and keep guard? I... need rest. Shut my eyes for a little. Not long."

While Shiro becomes victim to another yawn, eyes watering and body slumping, Lance besides him nods with enthusiasm. "Yeah, course, yeah, definitely," he rambles off, seeming grateful for the distraction or desperately needing to be needed somehow.

"Good. That's good, Lance," Shiro laughs through yet another yawn, wondering when he might just fall to the ground. Anywhere seems comfortable now. His body slumps down, awkwardly shuffling with Keith sleeping softly on his thigh. The movement doesn't seem to bother him at all.

Lance sits cross-legged and pats his thighs before he rubs them then removes his hands just as quickly. He seems a blur of skin and clothes from Shiro's sleepy vision. "You can... my lap? Better than the floor." His voice is still just as shaky, but he sounds sincere. Shiro sighs and concentrates to push the tension out of his body. Without another word he leans over, shuffles, and lets his head rest wherever he feels most comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> K1. lies down and presses a cheek against Lance's thigh  
> K2. falls to his side and against Lance's chest
> 
> [Make your vote by December 18th 7:00pm EST](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>  **Remember:** Voting choices may look innocent, but each has a predetermined direction the next chapter will take. Choose wisely!  
>  \----  
>    
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/154414748974/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or on my writing only blog [Foxberry Writes](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/). 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's baaaaaaack? It's been a bit of a long break between chapters because of Christmas, New Year's, and deadlines so I've decided to get straight back into it with something a little darker. Not a bad way to get back into the swing of things.
> 
> \----
> 
> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.

Shiro lies down and presses a cheek against Lance's thigh. He would have been content with any surface for a chance to sleep, but a softer one makes all the difference as he feels himself drifting away. Even the jolty movement of Lance’s knee beneath him doesn’t hold him back.

When the sounds of the room fades away, he finds himself in another corridor, dark but for the strobing purple light pulsing from his arm. With every flash his arm aches, a heartbeat thrumming alongside it, inside and outside of Shiro’s chest, almost like a pair of hearts beating at the same time.

The sound fills his ears and echoes off the dark shimmer of the walls, following down the long empty corridor only to end in the shadow. A turn to his left reveals bright yellow eyes where his would be, staring back unblinking, unaffected by the furrowing of Shiro's brows as if the eyes are not his own. A low satisfied hum follows, shaking the mirror, the walls, the very floor beneath his feet.

Shiro feels a sharp dread dig into his stomach and he runs. The corridor narrows, mirrored walls pressing in on him with every stride he makes. He huffs in the darkness, eyes half-blinded by the flashing light from his arm, revealing no end in sight. His footsteps fall beneath the sound of the two heartbeats, pounding in his ears, one calm and one fast, meeting in an turbulent, offbeat rhythm.

Turning to his left again, he sees the blur of yellow eyes beside him and the sickly off-white glow of a growing smile. It teases him with silent laughter, matching the movement of his face and his body perfectly, haunting him like an animate shadow.

Turning to his right, he finds much the same. A chilling wink sets his gaze forward again, unable to forget the shadows that live and run and smile in the dark mirrors on either side. They are his visage in a different light or perhaps more aptly a darker shadow, untouched by the pulsing purple glow from his arm.

The glass of the mirror starts to skirt along his left arm and nudges his right arm closer to his body. He draws both in, struggling to run while so tense in his shoulders. All he can hear is the heartbeats, the stable one chasing the hurried, stressed beat of his own. It's as if he is being chased by the darkness itself.

The sounds of his team play behind him, calling out to him with the terrified screams and grunts and cries of each of them. His shoulders shake, wanting to push forward through the weight now pulling down at his legs and wanting to turn back to check behind him. He can't bare to look, staring straight ahead to avoid the yellow eyes he can see in the corners of his vision. They stare at him and drill into his resolve, piercing through his skin with a silent screech, seeming to scrape tiny fragments from his soul.

Mirrors squeeze him to a halt, pressing him in, forcing him to face the dark figure, his demons built of shadow and doubt. Bright yellow sears at his eyes, grasping for his gaze, demanding it until he stares in the startling emptiness before him. There's nothing in those eyes, nothing he can see. Yet the being smiles with a teasing grin, teeth sharp and jagged, so much like Keith's in Galra form he flinches at the memory of the attack on his arm.

Aching and pinned between the glass, he cringes as it begins to crack. It distorts the image of his shadow, a sharp line rushing through the crackling of glass, forming branches in the mirror. Its face splits to the harsh, unsettling sound erupting in front of him and behind him. The smile forming in the muted colours presses in closer and ruptures when another crack strikes through it, turning one smile into many.

Shards of glass erupt in the air, nipping at Shiro's skin, digging into flesh, decorating him like a misshapen art piece too bruised and weak to be restored. The faster heartbeat slows, clapping through the din of the vice-like corridor. His lungs scream for air that evades his lips. His body aches to fall, to sleep, to dream of worlds far from this one.

He can feel a hand on his cheek, teasing and gentle. He shakes his head free of the touch and glares at the shadow staring through the spider web cracks across its face. "What do you want?!" he yells to the empty, breath-stealing corridor. The sound of his own voice hurts his ears. His voice has as little room as his body does. 

"Shiro?" calls a voice in the distance. It reverberates through the glass, shaking shards to the ground. They scatter with the sound of squawking birds or maybe a hissing of insects. It distorts too much for Shiro to tell with everything aching.

Shiro turns his head this way and that but sees nothing. The purple flashing in his arm slows, leaving him in long seconds of darkness. "Where am I? What is this? Why do you look--" His voice cuts off into a gasp. A desperate choking sound grabs around his throat at the sudden sharp pain in his chest.

Eyes wide and barely able to breathe, his chest freezes, unable to move or risk the tearing through his lungs. His head grows cloudy and with all of his effort, he groans and peers down. Poking out through his uniform is a gigantic piece of glass. Pointed and jagged, it protrudes from his chest, dripping with a thick, dark liquid that dribbles down from the wound in his chest. It appears too foreign to be blood, but there's little else it can be.

Laughter crackles through the air like radio static and Shiro snaps his head up to peer at the yellow eyes that have returned. They stare him down with a smile, showing in the way the eyelids narrow, seeming pleased. Shiro throws his fist at the glass and screams. His hand shatters away the wall of mirrors in front of him, pieces cutting into his hand while his chest freezes up in the jolt of pain. He can't move. He can't move. He can't--

Shiro gasps and cries and screams with a rasped, choked sound. His body arches up fro his position on the ground. All he can see is grey and shadows. He can't tell if the dream has ended or he has. The mirror's pieces are gone, but pain clings to him, remnants of sleep racking his body.

"Shiro!" Lance cries, voice raw with worry and what sounds like tears. "Are you okay? Are you awake? Please tell me you're..." His face comes into view, hovering over Shiro. He holds his hands up ready, but unsure of what to do with them. Shiro realises suddenly that he's lying on the ground, contorted in a strange position, aching from muscles he'd long forgotten he had.

Keith's face pops into view a moment later. His features have become a darker purple and his ears keep twitching when he frowns. "You had another nightmare," he announces and looks over Shiro. "Did you need anything? Can we... do... something?" He's at a loss for what to do.

Shiro sinks down to the floor, slowly relaxing the tension in each of his muscles. Their faces, as worried as they are, set him at ease. He's not longer dreaming, and while his body hurts, it's not pulling him apart. Nor is he the target of a shadow in his form. The sooner he can wake, the sooner he can forget. Yet everything, even the dream, still hurts.

Shiro rolls himself over and pushes himself up from the floor. His body feels strange, now that he isn't pinned between mirrored walls and his chest remains in one piece. He can't escape the thought that he needs to keep going, find the others, and get out of this place before hell breaks lose. Even if his body feels like it's been to hell already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> L1. stands to limp ahead, taking a deep breath to steady himself  
> L2. bites his lips and sighs, preparing himself to give orders
> 
> [Make your vote by January 13th 7:00pm EST](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>  **Remember:** Voting choices may look innocent, but each has a predetermined direction the next chapter will take. Choose wisely!  
>  \----  
>    
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/155576516849/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter. ](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue). 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this in my mind for a while, but seeing S2 spurred me to update. Again, sorry it's taking so long. Hope you enjoy. I think many of you have waited long enough for what's coming.
> 
> \----
> 
> This is essentially a 'choose your own adventure' fic. As I update, you'll be given the option as the reader to vote for how the fic goes within the set timeline.

Shiro stands to limp ahead, taking a deep breath to steady himself. While his wounds are patched up, his patience is fraying. The edges have already started to snag on all of his obstacles and now the threads are trailing behind him, blowing in the wind.

He pushes forward, grunting, breath hitching as every move sends another ripple of pain through him. “We’ll just have to keep going,” he manages through his groaning, pushing forward as Keith and Lance follow on behind him.

Keith sniffs the air as they make their way through the corridors. Only a few steps behind Shiro, he checks the side corridors they pass and finds nothing to report. He trails just enough behind to stay in the corner of Shiro's eye.

Beside him Lance hums, nervously going over a familiar tune that Shiro can't place. He might have told him to be quiet if it wasn't somehow comforting. Lance's steps wander back and forward, unable to keep to a straight line. He holds his gun up, ready to fire, turning it this way and that with a suspicious squint.

After what seems like an hour of searching and limping, Shiro spies a blinking light ahead. It must be a sign, some kind of indication that he's leading them all the right way. "Follow me." He rushes forward, ignoring his limp, pushing his body harder. He huffs through every jolt that shoots through him with each heavy step towards the light.

His breath catches in his throat when the sickly green lights around them flicker. They seem to screech behind their panels of glass and metal, flashing down at the three of them before turning off completely. A low hum runs through the walls, seeming to prickle over their skin. The hair on Shiro's arm stands on end, and then it is gone again.

"Hunk?" Lance asks in the dark, moving to Shiro's side. His voice does not sound certain, more worried if he should even be talking at all. Despite the darkness, Shiro can see his gun is held in position close to his chest. His silhouette appears to be tense, maybe even shaking. Comforts will have to come later.

Shiro shakes his head and blinks hard when the lights flick back on. As much as Hunk might be fiddling with something or has just knocked something lose, he suspects they might find someone or something else when they make their way to the end of the corridor. He's preparing himself for the worst.

Step by step they get closer to the room. Blinking LED lights flash at the end of the corridor, teasing them. Shiro can't be certain if it's a good or a bad sign, but he signals for Lance and Keith to stay close all the same. He can't have them wandering off if something does happen.

"So you think if we just--- Shit!" Lance jumps out of the way just as a door slams in front of his face with a metal crunch. The walls around them shake and they all stare at the new steel wall before them.

Lance's nose is barely an inch away from the steel. If he had been one step closer, not distracted by his paranoia, he might have been hit by it. His eyes stare, his body freezes, and his tongue flaps in his mouth unable to produce sound again.

Keith moves to stand beside Lance, hovering behind his shoulder. “You okay, Lance?” He leans in and places a hand on Lance's arm. Keith turns to check with Shiro before he looks back again, eyes filled with concern.

It takes a second before Lance responds. “Fine!” he yelps and slams forward into the door. "Fine. I'm fine!" He pulls his arm away and hunches his shoulders together. His face contorts into a frown, trying to shake off the pain in his body. Shiro wonders briefly if he looks as pained as that when he moves.

"Let's get this door open." Shiro steps forward and grabs at the first piece of jutting metal he can find. His fingers can barely make the grip, but it holds long enough for him to pull. It relents at his touch.

Lance follows suit, grabbing the other side of the door by the tips of his fingers, and starts pulling. "This thing's heavy." He grunts and puts all of his back into it. The door begins to move further, a gap appearing in the centre.

Keith steps towards the gap and digs his claws into the metal. It continues to screech and whine as he pushes the doors apart. "Keep... pulling... it's moving."

The door moves slowly, resisting all three of them, forcing them all to groan and push and struggle. Shiro can feel his muscles screaming at him again, muscles ready to give up. His fingers slip for a second and the door speeds away from him. He leaps forward to get his grip again and stops the metal just before it hits Keith's hands.

Lance whines and grunts and grinds his feet into the ground. He starts to speak when the door pulls away from all of them, slamming back into the walls. Lance falls back, sliding to the floor with a curse.

Keith falls forward through the wider gap and catches himself with his hands, claws scratching and peeling away the metal floor. He collapses to the ground with a groan.

Shiro stomps his foot to the ground and manages to stay upright. He leans forward to hold himself up with a hand on his thigh. Lance's bandages seems to still be holding despite how much he continues to test them. He sighs and gathers himself up to keep walking while the others get themselves to their feet.

"Keep going," he suggests, his voice raw, his body too tired to say much more. He limps slowly behind Keith and Lance as they stumble forward in front of him. Keith continues to sniff and hunch, body tense and ready to go, while Lance seems more on edge, pointing his gun up at the exit they approach.

Once out of the corridor, they find a large room of electronics, lit by distant star shining through the vast window at the other end. The side walls are covered in broken screens. Cables trail across the floor and into the corners and up to the ceiling. Lights flicker from tiny LED lights that seem splattered across every surface that Shiro can see.

In amongst them all are a handful of stations and chairs, positioned like it was meant for a team to fly. Sparks shoot from one end of the room, casting light across the desks and catching on the dust. It smells like the remnants of a fire, smoke rising lazily from the burnt out electronics tucked in places Shiro can't see.

But despite the array of technology he finds himself confronted with and the vast emptiness of space he can see outside, his eyes are drawn to a shadow cast along the ground. It leads to the far corner where someone sits, backlit by the light of the star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> K1. approaches the shadow quietly, sticking close to the wall  
> K2. calls out to the shadow
> 
> [Make your vote by January 25th 7:00pm EST](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>  **Remember:** Voting choices may look innocent, but each has a predetermined direction the next chapter will take. Choose wisely!  
>  \----  
>    
> If you have a Tumblr account, you can send your vote to [foxberrywrites](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/) via [reply or tags on the Tumblr post](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/156197715004/echo-chamber), message, or via ask _OR_ you can also simply vote in the comments below!
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [Tumblr](https://foxberryblue.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter. ](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue). 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter has taken me way too long. Sorry once again for delaying a story that should be much easier for me to write. I've been struggling with writer's block in this particular story for far too long. I hope the wait has been worth it. Thank you for sticking around!
> 
> \--
> 
> I'll be updating this story every now and then and at the end of each chapter you as the reader will have the ability to vote which way the story goes next.
> 
> Due to the time restraints I have (and using Tumblr less), I've stopped updating this fic on Tumblr.

Shiro calls out to the shadow, “Hello?” He regrets the moment the words come out of his mouth and he doesn’t know how to follow. His feet move instead, step by step with his back to the wall, skirting along it. A glint of light blinks at him from that same corner, intimidating and gone within a blink of his own eyes. Shiro can’t be sure he’s seen anything at all. He squints into the darkness and slows his pace around the perimeter of the room.

To his right, Keith and Lance stand still, fixed to the floor like the chairs before them. He can make out the way they stare at him, occasionally throwing their glances to the shadow Shiro nears bit by bit. Neither of them speak, likely too afraid to disturb whatever waits in the dark.

The silhouette itself twitches but thankfully doesn't move. It sits just as still as the furniture and serves as a foreboding visage of what might be yet another dark surprise. It makes no sound, makes no attempt to speak, and stares with eyes that seem to reflect the dimmest glimmer of LED lights flashing in amongst the smouldering ruins.

"Who's there?" Shiro asks louder, hoping that the raising of his voice will not backfire. "We mean you no harm." He raises his hands and bites his lip to stop the wince he wants to make as his muscles burn and fight against him. "We hope you mean no harm to us too." He gulps and edges closer.

The smell of the room fills his lungs. Burnt rubber and plastic makes him want to gag and choke and punch a hole in the nearest wall if it only meant fresh air. For now he'll just have to breathe and hope, staring at the silhouette that refuses to answer him. It may be nothing, but Shiro swears he can hear the unmistakable sound of breathing.

"Shiro," Keith stage-whispers at him. The warning in his tone is so clear even from metres away. "Don't get any closer!" He steps forward, body tensing and moving hesitantly along the wall. A small growl follows from deep in Keith's chest. He's not the least bit happy that Shiro is closer to the silhouette.

Lance hushes him, nudging into his side with a sharp elbow. "Shut up. You'll only make it worse." His hands clasp around Keith's arms and hold him back. Shiro can make it out in the corner of his eye, but he can't risk looking back at them. The silhouette is watching all of them, intent on staring and saying nothing.

Shiro takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He's seen worse so far, even in his mind things have been worse. This can't be something that tops any of that. He has to believe that. He clenches his fist and forces himself to believe it. There has to be something _good_ soon. "We can help you..."

The sound that returns is a rough laugh. Like a voice that's not familiar with speech, it croaks and wheezes, air coming from lungs filled with dust, barely able to breathe life into words. It's soft but no less creepy. Shiro rethinks the foot he lifted and places it back down on the floor.

"Help? Help me?" The voice is small, a whisper with squeaks breaking its tone, like a something is clinging to it that's not meant to be there. It's so painfully familiar that Shiro checks over his shoulder to see if he is the only one that knows that voice. "Can't help me."

Keith's eyes widen, his natural brown irises showing through the fading yellow. His ears seem smaller and less purple. The claws of his hands have disappeared and overall he appears so much more human and _afraid_. The recognition on his face is unmistakable.

Lance clears his throat and frowns. His arm moves around Keith's shoulder as if it moved without his knowledge. He leans against Keith then, exchanging a glance before casting his eyes to Shiro. He can hear the resemblance too.

“Pidge? Pidge, it's me, Shiro. We're all here for you. I'm finally here.” Shiro has never heard his own voice fall so dead in a room. He can't shake the dread bubbling beneath it. Something isn't right and they all know it.

The silhouette begins to move, shadow rising up and gathering together. The stars in the background seem to lose their glimmer but Shiro can't be sure that's not just the dread clawing up his stomach. He's sure that has to be Pidge. He's sure of it. Yet he can't work out why that thought makes him so anxious.

The last he heard Pidge they'd been screaming down the communicator. There's no hint of that same fear now in the way their arms hang by their sides or the way their head tilts until their glasses catch the blinking lights. A shaky sigh escapes from them, shadow shrouding over them, hiding the expression that would give away the meaning. Yet despite the stillness of their body, their fingers keep twitching and their feet keep shifting.

There’s a crackle in the electronics. A flash of light illuminates the darkness for a split second, highlighting the white of Pidge’s eyes behind the glasses. Shiro hadn’t been wrong, but he had been wrong in assuming they aren’t afraid. Before he can say a word, their head shakes and they withdraw back to the floor, curling up and twitching.

“Go away,” their voice cracks over the syllables, head moving quickly around the room. Even in the darkness it’s obvious their eyes are looking over Shiro, Keith, and Lance with distrust. “You’re not _real_. None of you are real.” Their silhouette shrinks further, arms enveloping their legs. Not a second goes by without their shoulders shrugging or body rocking or breath coming out in shaky waves.

“Pidge…” Lance’s voice draws all of their attention. His arm slides down from Keith’s shoulder, trailing fingers across Keith’s back. “It’s us.” His voice is soft, patient, and holding back the sound of his nerves playing with his tongue. It’s a good attempt with the thick air of fear clinging to the air and the smell of burnt plastic. Perhaps it might work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> L1. nods at Lance to keep going  
> L2. hushes Lance and raises a finger to his lips
> 
> [Make your vote by March 18th 7:00pm EST](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>  **Remember:** Voting choices may look innocent, but each has a predetermined direction the next chapter will take. Choose wisely!  
>  \----  
>    
> To vote, simply leave a comment below! Please don't forget to tell me what you think or how you think our paladins will get through the next trial.
> 
> \- - -
> 
> I would love to hear your feedback here or you can also find me on [my main twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or [my Voltron fandom twitter](http://twitter.com/particlebarrier). 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had hoped to post this before my 3 week vacation out of the country, but no such luck. However, the mysteries have deepened and perhaps things are more complicated or even more simple than they seem~
> 
> \--
> 
> I'll be updating this story every now and then and at the end of each chapter you as the reader will have the ability to vote which way the story goes next.

Shiro nods for Lance to continue. It can't hurt to let him try what's on his mind. Shiro hasn't had much luck with any of his own attempts so far. He checks over at Keith, still wrapped in Lance's arms, who returns a nod to Shiro’s curious gaze. He doesn’t remember those two being so close.

“Pidge?” Lance begins, stepping forward, reaching behind him for Keith's hand. “We’re not going to jump you or anything. We want to help.” His eyes grow wider with concern. The fingers of his free hand fidget nervously, seeming to stroke and clasp at the air.

Pidge huffs and crosses their arms. They refuse to move, stubborn and gritting their teeth. Narrowing into a glare, their eyes survey Shiro then Lance then Keith and still they refuse to say a word.

All Keith seems to be able to do is shrug and stare. The size of his ears are smaller, less hairy, but still a prominent shade of purple. His skin however seems to have faded back to it's original tone. That’s perhaps the first good sign in a while, as small as it is.

Lance frowns back at Shiro’s gaze, eyebrows raised and lips turned up in an awkward smile. His face simply says he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s barely said a few words and he already feels defeated. The air on this ship seems to be weighing them all down.

Trying to ignore the thoughts of where they are and what's happened, Shiro takes another turn. He’s bound to make some kind of break if he can just get through to them. “Pidge… I don’t know why you’re…” He stops himself immediately, knowing exactly why they’re burying themselves in amongst machines again, where code can never talk back, where code is only wrong and never missing.

“You’re part of our team,” Shiro asserts, edging closer, holding his breath to block the putrid rubber stench from getting into his lungs. It’s a futile effort. “We need you in this team.” He can't tell if the words really taste that bad coming out of his mouth or if the burning smell has sunk onto his tongue.

Lance steps forward, asserting himself with his chest pushed out. “Shiro’s right, Pidge.” The move can't be more appreciated than it is right now. He might not be the brightest but he's not stupid either. He's actually been damn near vital if Shiro thinks about it. Even if he did shoot at them on first sight.

Regardless of what they say, Pidge is determined to stay put. Their hands however can’t seem to stay still, grabbing for the nearest wires, tugging and clawing at whatever lay close. “Hunk left me.” Accusation drips from their lips like Pidge’s mouth is full of it. “It wasn’t really him. He wouldn’t leave me.”

Crawling across the floor, Pidge grabs for a keyboard, keys barely holding to it anymore, marks burnt into its plastic. “But I’ve been alone. Working. Working alone.” Their shoulders hunch and they move the keyboard to their lap. “Can’t trust anyone. Shadows everywhere. Can’t sleep. The dreams come.”

Pidge begins to rock back and forth, fingers settling over the keys. Once their hands perch in place, they seem more at peace, and their erratic typing begins. “Can’t. Let. Them. Get. Me.” The harsh sound of the keys tapping and clicking punctuate her words. The lights follow immediately, blaring in flashes of light. The doors of the corridor shut with a clang, sealing the room, locking them in with no escape.

“Pidge…” Shiro swallows at the lump in his throat to no avail. As small as Pidge is, even he finds himself a little afraid of them. He doesn’t dare look to see what the others are doing. “No one is out to get you. It’s just us. Your team. You remember us, right?” He can hear the uncertainty in his voice. He needs to remain calm and show the others that everything is going to be fine. Pidge isn't the kind of person to hurt them.

Rocking back and forward, Pidge seems to be ignoring him, mumbling about one thing or another as their fingers continue to clatter across the keys. When their voice finally raises above the sound, all Shiro can here is “There was an explosion. A fire. I thought I heard voices.” Their lips press together, a sign that the Pidge they know is still there, nervous and frightened and desperately not wanting to be.

“You talked to me on the communicator..." Shiro licks over his lips and notes how dry and sore they still feel. The skin is beginning to peel in places, much like his resolve. He can't believe Pidge doesn't remember the two of them talking. It hasn't been that long surely. Pidge called out to him and he answered.

Pidge pouts with disapproval. Their hands never stop. Their fingers keep typing away and setting off whirrs and beeps that would have driven Shiro mad if he wasn't already dead tired. “I thought I did.” They stop rocking to lean forward, assessing from behind their shiny glasses. “I don’t _know_ who you are.”

It's one thing to think that Pidge isn't quite okay. It's an entirely different thing to have Pidge not seem to recognise them, or want to recognise them, or not believe they are who they say they are. Shiro doesn't like it regardless. “It’s me… Shiro…” He places his hand gently on his chest, like Pidge might do something rash if he moves any faster. Judging by their current paranoia they just well might.

“And them?” Pidge turns their attention to the others. Their fingers slow as their shoulders hunch and nudge at Keith and Lance. The frown on their face remains. They seem far from the bright, happy person Shiro knows. He wonders if that's the result of being on their own for so long.

Keith looks over at Shiro for what to say, but tries something anyway. The words tumble from his mouth. “We’re part of your team. Keith.” He places his hand over his chest when he says his name. Shiro can see him sighing from here, no doubt questioning why he needs to introduce himself to someone they've been on missions with.

“And Lance." Beside him Lance touches his chest too. He gulps and lowers his shoulders, trying to look more confident in what he's saying than he actually is. "We came to this ship to investigate the beacon. Don’t you remember?” He sounds almost hurt behind the worry.

Pidge neither looks happy or dissatisfied with their answers and begins to tinker with the keyboard again, pulling at the keys before pushing them back in. “I found the beacon.” Staring down, they appear entirely disinterested in anything else, yet somehow it sounds a little more like the Pidge they all know.

Shiro forces a smile and hopes they won't see through it. “That’s really good, Pidge. What was it saying?” He nods, even if they aren't looking his way. There's no telling what might set of their paranoid or what controls they have in their hands.

“Echoes off the walls. Keeps… echoing.” Pidge's voice is flat, reporting facts without any of that natural flair they usually have. They stop to scratch at their ear then their hair, still staring down like the three of them aren't even in the room.

Shiro has to at least try to persist and get some kind of information. “Pidge, you need to tell us what it says.” If there's some kind of beacon, if it's the beacon that drew them here, then surely they can find out why they're here and, maybe, where they should go. There has to be something to be gained.

A hint of sadness comes into Pidge's voice when they answer, “Nothing. It said nothing, and then the dreams came.” Their whole body pauses for a moment, considering a burnt mark on the floor. It's a second or two before they shake their head and begin fiddling with the keyboard again.

Shiro's attention perks up at the mention of dreams and he lets thoughts of the beacon slide. There seems to be no luck in getting anything out of Pidge in their current state. If Pidge has been having dreams too, if they're anything like his, then perhaps this is why they're as paranoid as they are. There's no telling how long they've been having them or how many days have passed since the explosion. 

“Do you know how long we’ve been here?” he asks aloud, facing Pidge, hoping for some kind of answer. They remain fixated on their work, seeming to ignore the question. Whatever capacity Pidge had for talking to them, it seems to be gone for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro…
> 
> M1. turns his attention to Lance  
> M2. looks over at Keith
> 
> [Make your vote by April 30th 7:00pm EST](http://foxberrywrites.tumblr.com/post/146985247089/new-interactive-writing-project)  
>  **Remember:** Voting choices may look innocent, but each has a predetermined direction the next chapter will take. Choose wisely!  
>  \----  
>    
> To vote, simply leave a comment below! Please don't forget to tell me what you think or how you think our paladins will get through the next trial.
> 
> You guys wanted Pidge and here they are! Did anyone picture this as their first appearance? Yes? No? What's happening with Hunk? Hmmm...
> 
> \- - -
> 
> Please let me know what you think or what you think is going on below or you can also find me on [my main twitter](http://twitter.com/foxberryblue) or [my Voltron fandom twitter](http://twitter.com/particlebarrier).
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had such a writer's block with this story but I've overcome it and it's finally back~! It's also the anniversary of when I first started writing this fic. I was hoping to have it finished by now but I'm happy that I've stuck with it all this time!
> 
> \--
> 
> At the end of each chapter you as the reader will have the ability to vote which way the story goes next.

Shiro looks over at Keith, hoping that the transformation has stilled for longer than this moment. He appears to be his old self, the same reliable Keith he’s always been. “Do you know how long we’ve been here?” he asks again, sparing a quick glance away from Pidge.

Keith shakes his head, his ears now smaller and less purple. “I can’t remember.” He shrugs and frowns in Pidge’s direction before he turns to Lance. The expression on his face softens, but Shiro's sure he doesn't even know there's a hint of a smile on his face. 

“Lance?” Shiro asks, flashing a smile over at him. He can't help but note how much closer he's edged to Keith. He seems to be nervous, barely blinking while he watches Pidge's every movement.

Lance shakes himself out of his thoughts and clears his throat. "Yeah? Oh... uh... with the communicators working... or any of our gear working, you can't really measure time out here." He frowns, disappointed by his inability to answer. He can't seem to look Shiro in the eye.

Shiro has to admit that he has a point. There's no telling how long it's been since he woke up and struggled to his feet. The others have likely been up just as long if not longer, struggling and stumbling and suffering on their own. He can't remember the last time he felt hungry, let alone the last time he ate.

Sighing, he closes his eyes and edges away from Pidge. Their attention seems to be fully fixated on the keyboard in front of them. It can't hurt to leave them be. Space, oddly, seems to be something they need more of right now. Shiro can't see any good coming from questioning them further.

“Let’s… take a moment. I need to rethink this," he sighs and scratches at the join of his metal arm. It still has some movement, despite the continuing flashing that seems more of a feature now than an error. The weight, however, pulls down on his shoulder, tugging him down like every new setback that has come across them so far. He's not sure how much longer he will last.

Shrugging it off, he meanders his way over to the others, finding himself unable to meet their eyes. It feels like failure walking away, but there's little to be done while Pidge is like this. He stares at Lance's shoes and notes just how close they're all standing. He still can't look them in the eye. “How long do you think we’ve slept since we’ve got here?”

Lance's foot shuffles in place of him speaking, while Keith stands still and answers, “A few hours. You haven’t slept much at all since we found each other.” There's a hint of sympathy in his voice, a concern Shiro wishes he could focus on more than the heaviness of his eyelids.

A hand grips onto his arm, fingers digging into his bicep and squeezing with a sense of urgency and intent. Shiro's eyes blink, hard, and he finds himself looking up into Keith's clear eyes with no hint of yellow left. He says nothing beyond his touch, his other hand twitching by his side. Shiro nods in silent agreement with the message.

“What if it’s been longer?” he asks finally. There's a chance time may have passed quicker than they've realised. Perhaps it's been more than just hours. Pidge has said they've been alone for a long time, and yet Shiro hasn't felt anything more than pain and fatigue, not a hint of hunger.

Lance tilts his head and adjusts his weight to his other foot, shoulder brushing against Keith. They're all standing so close that Shiro lets himself think for a moment that they might actually be safe until Lance asks back, “What do you mean?”

Shiro sighs, purses his lips, and glances between them. “What if what has felt like hours has been days?” He listens to the way the computers beep through the empty sound that follows his voice. The thought feels so much heavier now that it's out of his head.

Lance scoffs and leans his weight against Keith. Neither of them move far as Keith shifts his weight back to hold Lance up. “Then I’d be starving. I am not going days without food. Are you kidding?” His hand gestures through the air as he laughs, but the sound dies in the air. A sudden realisation hits him as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He can see just how strange this all is too.

“So you’ve not felt hungry? Not had an appetite?” Shiro is already sure of what the answer is. Lance never lasts long without something to eat, probably a side effect from spending so much time around Hunk. He has to admit to himself that he hasn’t felt the need to eat after all this time.

Lance's eyebrows raises before his face falls. “No…” He glances to Keith beside him as if checking to see if he’s the only one. A frown spreads across his face as confusion and worry starts to settle in. He turns back to Shiro, completely wordless, mouth open.

Shiro has nothing else to say either, staring around at what his team has become. It feels like it’s been forever and a day, shrouded in darkness and filled with pain. He’s forgotten what it’s like to be at ease, to feel comfortable, to know what lurks around the next corner. Most of all he’s tired of having to think ahead for his next move and where that’ll lead everyone. Perhaps he’s not meant to lead.

Keith clears his throat and breaks the silence, nudging Lance a little and staring pointedly at Shiro. “You need to rest before you burn yourself out. Pidge is already burning the candle at both ends of… whatever is going on over there.” He gestures with a tilt of his head towards Pidge’s silhouette behind him and gives Shiro a pointed look. “Sit back, relax, and don’t push yourself.”

Shiro struggles to not roll his eyes. Any expression more than a small smile still hurts his face. By now he's used to it, expects it, and he gives Keith a look anyway. He doubts it's possible to relax after everything he's been through.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Keith retorts with a sigh. He's so strangely normal that it feels odd seeming him this way. “Like you know what you’re doing.” When he talks, the sharp edges of his teeth reveal themselves, somehow still pointed and inhuman. It almost suits him.

Sighing, Shiro retreats back and settles against the nearest wall. “None of us know what we’re doing.” He frowns, not sure whether he feels worse for admitting it or realising that it’s the truth. They don’t know where they are or what they’re doing and none of them seem to have a good memory. He needs time to think and assess where they’ll go from here. 

Keith’s lips form into a tight smile. He doesn’t need to say that he agrees. It’s written all over his face. “I’m going to check out the room. See if there’s something else I can find.” He turns to Lance, shrugging his shoulders slightly, lips tugging up at the end into an awkward smile. 

Lance stands there, speechless, eyes looking between the two of them. He gives Keith some space and settles his hands onto his hips. Where he might have looked proud and confident in that pose most days, he simply looks lost right now. 

Shiro starts sinking down the wall. The weight of everything pulls him down, like the shadows are clawing at him, like his dreams are filtering into reality. “I’m- I’m going to stay here and do something. I don’t know what that something is but I’ll.. I’ll find it. Yeah.” 

His eyelids drooping, he watches Keith nod and walk away. He seems to be recovering from his condition and Shiro can’t be more thankful for that. At least that’s one less thing he has to worry about for now. Everything else can wait. He’ll just nap for a moment and hope the dreams won’t come again.

Patting the ground beside him, he calls out, “Join me Lance. I think we can both use a rest.” His eyes are starting to sting and his head seems to be pounding, but he can at least make sure one member of his team is okay. He can manage that. It might be all he can manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance…
> 
> N1. steps over and plops down beside Shiro  
> N2. hesitates before making his way over and slowly lowering himself next to Shiro
> 
> Make your vote by July 11th 7:00pm EST!  
> (Next chapter is blocked out but I'll start writing in a day or two so get those votes in asap!)
> 
>  **Remember:** Voting choices may look innocent, but each has a predetermined direction the next chapter will take. Choose wisely!  
>  \----  
>    
> To vote, simply leave a comment below! Please don't forget to tell me what you think or how you think our paladins will get through the next trial.
> 
> How long has it been? Why aren't they feeling hungry? What's really going on?
> 
> Fatigue is starting to get to Shiro. Even when he sleeps he can't rest. Maybe he'll be able to this time?
> 
> \- - -
> 
> Please let me know what you think or what you think is going on in the comments below or you can also find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/particlebarrier).
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me!


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